When Erik Met Lizzie
by Kelsismom
Summary: COMPLETE! Last chapter up! AUWhat happens in this modern day PhantomDear Frankie crossover when Erik meets Lizzie? The phantom makes a fresh start in Glasgow. Will he find a happy ending?
1. Chapter 1

**When Erik Met Lizzie**

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own "Phantom of the Opera", Erik, or any of its original characters as well as "Dear Frankie" or any of its original characters.

_Author's Note_: A/U- This is a crossover of modern-day Phantom and Dear Frankie. "Phantom of the Opera" is unfamiliar territory for me, so please bear with me! Yes, many liberties will be taken with this story, as usual. This Erik is a combination of some (ALW, Kay) of the Erik's personalities, but mostly my creation- on the lighter side. Huge thanks to Mrsphan for her helpful feedback and encouragement! Hope you enjoy and please don't forget to let me know what you think!

I hope you enjoy, please read and review!

**Chapter One**

A sign was posted on the chip shop window.

* * *

_Musician Wanted_

_Piano player needed for weekends and some weeknight gigs._

_Call 1555 551 212_

* * *

_Do I dream again, __for now I find,_

_the Phantom of the Opera,__ inside my mind._

It felt like minutes but had been mere seconds as Lizzie looked up into the stranger's face. In front of her doorway, they stood inches apart, his turquoise eyes bore into hers for an eternity, holding her, wanting her, gripping her heart with its bluish green depths. She made no movement and only stood still willing him closer to her. Second after torturous second passed before his handsome face inched its way slowly and uncertainly toward hers. Lizzie's eyes delivered her heart's plea and she moved her chin upward slightly, hoping to close the agonizing gap between their lips.

At last his lips came down on hers, his kiss gripping her like a magnet, pulling her and claiming her; leaving Lizzie helpless to its irresistible force. It was too soon when Lizzie felt the stranger begin to pull away.

Music; a haunting melody wafted through the air.

Lizzie felt possessed by it and reached her arms out to the stranger, around his neck, pulling him back, not letting his lips separate from hers. The music became louder and his arms wrapped tightly around Lizzie's back, enveloping her, gripping and squeezing her with his powerful hands. Locked in an intimate embrace, she could feel the muscles of his chest against her. Her mind was no longer her own as his hands moved to the soft skin of her face, commanding and cherishing her. The kiss deepened; setting her body in flames. His tongue found the bliss of hers, probing, and tempting her into a maelstrom of passion.

The tune filled her ears, mesmerizing her with its alluring resonance. It was like no other she heard before and she found herself intoxicated by the spellbinding orchestration of song and kiss. Into a hypnotic trance she fell deeper and deeper...

A repetitious, beeping sound penetrated her senses, causing her eyes to fly open. As she looked up at the stranger's face she gasped. Piercing blue eyes stared back at her; pleading, tugging at her soul. Separated finally from him she took in the sight of the man before her. Here was not the man Lizzie hired; the man who had melted her heart with his brilliant turquoise eyes. No, this man who looked down at her stood much the same height as the stranger, but his hair was as black as night, one side of his face was achingly beautiful, and the other side a white mask...

Lizzie sat up in her bed with a loud gasp, startling awake and trying to get her bearings. The beeping noise of the alarm clock became increasingly louder and she told herself to calm down, steadying her breathing. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. It was then that those piercing blue eyes appeared in her mind. Her eyes flew open and the beeping from the alarm clock captured her attention again. Rubbing her eyes, she reached over to her nightstand and shut off the alarm, knocking a paper onto the carpeted floor.

She stood up from the bed and grasped Frankie's letter to the stranger and the photo from the floor. Her fingers traced the images, her eyes taking in her son's happy expression and drifting to the stranger's face. It had been two weeks since he'd sailed- Marie's brother. Lizzie kept having that dream about him, reliving that kiss over and over again. This time it was different. It had never ended with a man wearing a mask. An odd feeling washed over her. The image invaded her subconscious, settling there; making itself at home. The dream had been so strange...

...but not unpleasant.

* * *

With shaking hands, Lizzie handed the envelope to Marie. _It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? _After all Frankie had written the letter to the stranger. But the thought still did not quell the butterflies in her stomach. 

Marie accepted the envelope from Lizzie with a smile. "Right then, I'll send it out today. Usually takes him about a week to receive his mail."

"Right," Lizzie said nodding her head nervously. As curious as she was Lizzie still could not bring herself to ask Marie his name. Maybe, she thought, it was better if she didn't know.

She pulled the smock over her head and joined Cindy, Marie's other employee, at the front counter. Cindy was tending to the queue wrapped up in a lively conversation with a couple of patrons. Lizzie grabbed a cleaning cloth and a tray and set out to wipe the vacant tables that were littered with dirty napkins and plates.

Lizzie busily tidied up the seating area, shaking her head at Cindy's giggling. The twenty-two year old liked to regularly entertain Marie's patrons with the town's gossip. They could barely resist her pretty blue eyes, lit up with giddiness, her animated face putting on a show for them.

The patrons had gone and Cindy continued laughing, her hands busy flipping the fish in the warmer. Lizzie joined Cindy back at the counter with a smirk when Marie emerged from the back room with a box in her hands.

"Cindy, so what are you on about now?"

A girlish giggle escaped Cindy's lips. "Oh, I was just telling the ladies about the phantom."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, wiping the counter and Marie sniffed as she edged her way in between Lizzie and Cindy.

"Cindy, really, what rubbish is this?" Marie raised an eyebrow, handing Lizzie a box full of cigarette packets to stock.

With wide eyes Cindy stopped what she was doing, set down her spatula, and turned to the two ladies, using her hands to pull their attention to her in true gossip mode. "No, it's true, Marie. There is a phantom right here in town."

Turning back to stocking cigarettes, Lizzie asked, "This isn't like when ya thought Sean Connery was in town, was it?"

Marie joined in, "Or like the time you said John Lennon's ghost was chasing you?"

Cindy shook her head in exasperation. "No! It's not like that. This phantom, well that's what I call him; he's a man, flesh and blood, and he wears a white mask on the right side of his face."

Her words sent a bolt of lightning through Lizzie's body. She hadn't told anyone about her dream the night before. Lizzie felt paralyzed and in her daze all she could do was turn and listen.

"It's a rumor, Cindy. There's no such man, or phantom here. Someone made it up and it's spreading like wildfire, " Marie told her matter-of-factly.

"No, it's true, Marie," Cindy paused to make sure all eyes were on her, noticing Lizzie's wide-eyed stare. "I've seen him."

"Oh, come off it now."

"He only comes out at night, I hear, because he doesn't want to be seen."

"But you've seen him?"

"Aye, I've seen him, Marie," Cindy told her, grabbing Lizzie and Marie into a huddle. Her voice turned low suddenly, "I was closing up shop last night and when I came out he was there looking at the ad that Ally put out."

Marie and Lizzie's brows were furrowed as they watched Cindy's serious expression.

"He was tall, dressed in a long black overcoat. I could only see one side of his face, the other was covered in some sort of white mask. But ladies, I'll tell ya this... and I kid ya not," she paused, her eyes darting back and forth between the two ladies, and continued with a sneaky smile, "this phantom with his sexy blue eyes, was hotter than a blazing fire."

* * *

"Bloody hell!" Nell exclaimed, gasping as she entered the small laundry room. As was her routine she'd waited until dark to do laundry when she knew there wouldn't be a fight for the small number of washers and dryers the building's tenants shared. But as she flipped on the light and found a man standing by the machine closest to the wall, she nearly dropped the laundry basket from her hands. 

It was the surprise of finding another person there that startled her and not the presence of the white mask the man was wearing, she told herself.

Erik sighed to himself. He was accustomed to women screaming at the sight of him and had hoped that at least here he could do his laundry in peace. Privacy was something he treasured and he was happy to have found a comfortable haven in his new flat.

Apparently the woman who'd just walked in must not have been too frightened, he thought. She hadn't run off and to his dismay proceeded to the first washing machine and set her laundry basket possessively on top. In fact she wore a rather disturbed look.

"You scared the bloody piss out of me," she told him with narrowed eyes, one hand pressed against her thumping heart.

His eyebrow shot up and as they stood a good six feet apart from one another Erik began to feel self-conscious about his mask. He quickly turned his head so that she could see only the left side of his face. Her gaze turned heavy and he cleared his throat.

"I apologize."

_Very odd_. The man's voice disarmed her. He'd only said two words yet the smooth masculine timbre that gave voice to them cut to the very heart of her anger. It was comforting…and almost hypnotic. She had detected an English accent. Nell's features softened as she considered the man across the small room. Her eyes took in his tall frame, dressed neatly in black slacks, and a white long sleeved button up shirt. His black hair was shiny and slicked back, falling just above his collar. The side of the face she could see was quite handsome. His chiseled features reminded her of someone…

"Right," she replied softly, snapping herself out of his spell. Her attention focused forward and she pulled the basket from the washing machine and placed it onto the one next to it. Her fingers reached for the coin purse inside her basket and deposited some coins into the machine, then opened the lid and adjusted the settings.

Nell tried to keep herself busy by pouring the detergent in and sorting the clothes but the man on the other side of the room was so peculiar to her- so peculiar that she couldn't keep her eyes from constantly darting in his direction. The man, she noticed, was waiting for his machine to finish its last cycle, and since he had nothing else to do he'd become fidgety, checking the settings repeatedly and opening up the lid; checking the clothing inside.

A frown came across her face as she realized that she might be losing her last bit of laundry room privacy to this man. Although, she reasoned, he didn't seem too pleased about her invasion either. She closed the lid and the two stood there in an awkward silence. Her eyes kept glancing back at him and at this point he had his back turned to her, his attention focused on flyers and business cards stapled to the bulletin board on the back wall.

Nell reached into a pocket for her cigarettes and lighter. Cigarette in mouth, she lit up and took a long puff.

The silence was killing her.

"So do ya make a habit of doing yer laundry in the dark then?"

Irritated by the smoke, Erik coughed. _Why couldn't this irksome woman leave him alone_, he wondered. Eyebrows furrowed, he kept his back to her, trying to hold on to what was left of his patience.

She raised an eyebrow. Puffing on her cigarette Nell leaned against her washing machine, eyeing the man curiously. "Cat got yer tongue?"

In a flash he was behind her, holding her in a deathly grip; one hand tightly covering her nose and mouth, and the other wrapped around her body. Her whimpering noises filled his ears as they pleaded for release from his cruel grip. His fingers moved from her mouth to her throat and excitement filled his veins as he contemplated snapping the woman's neck.

"Don't ya know it's bloody rude not to answer when you're being spoken to?" Nell demanded.

He shook his head, releasing himself from his fantasy. Fortunately for the older woman Erik had long since learned to control his temper and violent deaths were limited solely to his imagination.

"I said, don't you know it's bloody _rude _not to answer when you're being spoken to?" Nell asked in an accusatory tone.

Erik turned, baring only the left side of his face. His eyebrow shot up and inwardly he growled. "Don't you know, Madam, that smoking is a filthy habit?" he bit out icily.

A smirk overcame Nell's lips and she found a perverse pleasure in taunting the mysterious man. First, he'd invaded her laundry room, scaring the bejesus out of her as she entered, then he'd ignored her innocent queries. Nell would be damned if she was going to let some stuffy English masked man treat her like common trash. She said nothing, but only watched him with narrowed eyes, almost challenging him.

"I think it would be best if we just didn't speak...if it's all the same to you," he told her in regal tone, straightening his shoulders, ready to turn his back to her once again.

Nell's mouth fell open wide and she pursed her lips at the cheeky man. "Fine!"

"Good."

Silence.

Impatiently he lifted the lid to the washing machine once again as though with his mind he could will it to finish faster. Nell put out the last of her cigarette and with another look in the man's direction reached for another one. She lit it up in an exaggerated motion. Out of the corner of his eye he could see what she was doing and let out a sigh. In response to this she took a deep, long puff, exhaling a long stream of smoke in his direction.

Erik coughed as the smoke invaded his air and waved it away with a graceful hand, inwardly cursing the rude older woman. His mind took to fantasizing again. _Gun...too quick;_ _knife...too messy; punjab lasso...hmmm_. The more he thought about it the more he favored the troublefree technique of simply snapping her neck. He could almost feel her neck in his grip again. _Ahhh...the comfort of fantasies_.

Silence.

Nell finished off her cigarette. She hated silences, especially awkward ones. The scowl disappeared from her face and was replaced by an expression of morbid curiosity. "So what are ya hiding under that mask?"

He rolled his eyes. "For God's sake!" With a snap of his fingers the lights went out in the laundry room.

Her mouth fell wide open in surprise. In the darkness Nell could feel the vibration from the washer against her back. She looked toward the masked man but could barely make out his figure. "Did you do that?" she demanded. "Turn the bloody lights back on!"

There was only silence as Erik smiled to himself in the darkness, extremely pleased with himself.

Nell blindly made her way to the door, her hands reaching the walls for guidance, and flipped the light switch back to the on position, illuminating the room.

Erik waited until she took her place back in front of her washer and caught her eyes narrowing at him again. He snapped his fingers once more and the room was filled with darkness.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed reaching out in the darkness a few feet away to the light switch, flipping it on again, but to her dismay, she found that with a snap of his fingers the light magically turned off again. Nell sighed. She didn't know who this man was or how he could do that but she knew one thing; she hated darkness more than silence.

She focused her eyes on his shadowy figure in the darkness. Grudgingly, she admitted, "You win."

With a victorious smile he stood right where he was, snapping his fingers again. The light came back on.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for your feedback- it is much appreciated! Writing this fic is challenging to say the least. Please hang in there for further updates. Oh and please review!

Chapter 2

His back was perfectly straight and he sat upon the bench proudly, wearing a smile as his fingers played Chopsticks on the piano. His technique and ability were flawless; anything less was unacceptable. His ears took in the upbeat tone and this time he played faster, closing his eyes, letting his fingers pull the song from the piano.

"Alright, son. Now try to keep up," his father said, joining Erik on the bench right beside him.

Four-year-old Erik tried not to feel daunted and simply continued to play. He kept his eyes closed willing his fingers to become one with the keys. Side by side father and son played, the happy tune filling the entire room. In harmony, two pairs of hands played the classic; the boy and his father playfully competing, as though it were a race to the finish line. His father picked up the tempo but Erik was not intimidated as his small fingers worked harder to reach the keys.

His eyes opened and he stole a glance up at his father. The man made no eye contact with his son until the song was over at which point Erik caught what could only be perceived as a small glimpse of pride resting in his sharp blue eyes.

A smile of approval curved at his father's lips.

Erik's heart filled to the rim, proud of himself for doing a job well done and happy that he had pleased his father. Truly there was nothing better. His father demanded perfection from his small protégée, and Erik always strove to give nothing less.

* * *

He ran long, elegant fingers down the keyboard, pressing one ivory key and then another; listening, feeling the sound, the tone, and the pitch. His finger struck another key agreeably and a smile tugged at his lips. 

His right hand moved to grasp a pencil and he moved it quickly onto the paper, recording notes; sensing it, hearing it in his mind, tasting it with his soul.

"Yes!" he shouted, scribbling furiously, struck by a flurry of long-awaited inspiration.

He paused for just a moment then played back the notes on the piano, his fingers commanding the keys with their mighty will.

Another smile. _Yes, this was a good day…a very good day._

The notes fell onto the page as though they were derived from the pencil and not from the eccentric mind that composed them.

He laughed this time, his heart pounding joyfully, pleased by this inspiration. "Yes!" he shouted again.

With one hand he settled the completed sheet onto the stand and poised his hands to play when the murmur of a boy's voice outside distracted him.

Erik froze for a moment, cursing his flat for being so near to the sidewalk. His body slumped and his eyes darted toward the drapes that obscured the window. He rolled his eyes impatiently, then straightened his posture with fingers poised, ready to play again.

"I'm gonna hurt you, deaf boy. Give them back!"

His brows furrowed and he sighed at the disrupting sound of the young boy's voice outside his window.

* * *

Ricky Munro stood before Frankie. His angry expression and balled fists became more exaggerated with every word. "You lost the bet, Frankie! That man wasn't your real da." He stepped in closer to Frankie who showed no sign of backing down. "I want my trump cards back!" 

Frankie crinkled his brows and shook his head. It was true what Ricky was saying, but even as mean as he was being about it, Frankie wasn't willing to give up such an obviously prized possession.

"I said give them back, Frankie, and I want the knife and your stamp collection you owe me," Ricky commanded, narrowing his eyes, and taking another step towards him, almost in the boy's face.

Standing his ground, Frankie remained locked in that spot.

Ricky shoved Frankie's shoulder with one hand. "Go get them, deaf boy. Your real da didn't care to come see you, so you lost the bloody bet," he sneered.

Frankie gritted his teeth and wished for the first time in his life that he couldn't read lips. His eyes turned away from the young bully and Ricky forced himself back into Frankie's view.

"I'm warning you. If you don't give them back, being deaf is not going to be your only problem."

Frankie was just a little way from the entrance of his building. He made no move to leave, folding his arms in a defiant motion and setting his mouth in a firm line.

Ricky advanced on the boy once again, positioning his arm to swing at Frankie's face. Frankie closed his eyes, but just before Ricky's knuckles met the deaf boy's jaw a large, strong hand caught the bully's wrist, holding it tightly in its grasp.

Wild blue eyes settled on Ricky with a warning. The towering man's left brow rose as his gaze fell upon the young offender. "Surely, you have something better to do than pick on a deaf boy?"

It could've been the fearful way he growled the words or the white mask the creepy man wore, but as Ricky caught the snarl on the man's lips he could quickly imagine in his mind what he thought must lay underneath the mask.

Ricky's mouth dropped open in horror and he screamed at the top of his lungs, yanking his arm away in desperation.

"Now get out of here. If I see you around here again, I'll take care of you myself."

_Bullies_, he thought to himself, shaking his head as he watched the boy run away.

_Picking on a deaf boy, no less_.

As despicable as that thought was it was what that troublemaker had said about the boy's father that struck a chord. Anger flooded his veins, and in his worst violent fantasies none of his victims had ever been children, but this time, with a slight smile, he entertained the image of that blond-haired bully hanging from a noose…well, just for a couple of seconds anyway.

Frankie's eyes snapped open and watched a terrified Ricky Munro running with record speed towards the harbor. In a gesture of disbelief he rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing clearly. A smile crossed his lips, and he turned only to run smack into the chest of a mysterious man who towered over him. Frankie winced as he caught sight of the man's white mask, and his eyes became as big as saucers.

* * *

She grasped the egg in her hand, cracking it on the rim of the glass bowl. Humming a very old tune she tossed the eggshell into the trash and began to crack the other egg. 

"Christ!" she swore as she watched the runny, yellow yolk dribble down the outside of the bowl.

Her hands moved quickly to wipe up the mess, shaking her head at her carelessness. She huffed and turned to the table to reach a cigarette.

Nell had been on edge and as she inhaled the first drag from her cigarette she immediately found relief. She turned back, eyed the directions on the box carefully, and reached inside the refrigerator for another egg.

Today was Lizzie's birthday. Nothing extravagant had been planned for her daughter's birthday but, she thought, the least she could do was get the cake made right.

_It was also laundry night_.

She'd put it off for two days because she didn't want to chance running into that horrid masked man again.

Nobody believed her and Lizzie had just told her that she was getting senile. Frustrated, Nell shook her head.

_Doing laundry in silence…Who did he think he was anyway??_

Nell combined all the ingredients in the bowl and gave them a quick stir with her large wooden spoon. The ash from her cigarette was dangling dangerously above the mixture so she moved quickly to the table and set the cigarette on the ashtray. She paused for a moment to contemplate the whereabouts of the mixer.

Her eyes and hands searched every cupboard to no avail, until the only places left to look were too high for her to reach. She cursed again, grabbing a chair to stand on and moved it in front of the counter. Carefully she climbed, hoping that she wouldn't lose her balance, and with both feet firmly on the chair she reached open the cupboard.

Her face lit up and a sneaky smile crossed her face as she looked upon the object.

_It was brilliant_.

No, it wasn't the mixer. She'd have to keep searching for that. But it was exactly what she needed.

Nell decided the laundry could wait one more night. And then if the masked man was there tomorrow she would be ready.

* * *

"He keeps to himself, not a social kind of guy but he's a bloody genius, Marie," Ally told her, leaning his arms on the counter and gazing across at his lover's face while Marie fed him chips. 

Marie smiled to Ally, one hand caressing his arm flirtatiously. "That's good news, Ally. You've been looking for a piano player for weeks."

"He can play any tune from classical to pop, but he absolutely insists that he will not sing."

"He can't sing?" Marie asked curiously.

Ally shook his head and swallowed the piece in his mouth. "I don't think it's that he can't sing. I think that he just won't."

Marie raised an eyebrow at this. "That's a little odd, don't you think?"

"That isn't all that's odd about this man. He doesn't ever want to face the audience, says if he can't be hidden in the shadows than he only wants his left profile to be visible, otherwise he won't play."

Marie almost laughed as she dangled a chip over Ally's head, watching him try to grab it with his teeth like a dog. "Sounds like a bit of a prima donna. Maybe you could find someone else," she suggested.

"That would be insane," he told her pulling the chip from her grasp. "The man has more talent in his pinky then the whole rest of us put together," Ally added, reaching a chip from the basket and popping it in his mouth. "He's willing to accept what we pay him, and I think he's just sensitive about the way he looks."

The sound of the bell rang out signaling a customer, and Marie smiled as she looked down at Frankie approaching. "Hello, Frankie."

Frankie stood alongside Ally, greeting him with a smile and turned his gaze to Marie, handing her a piece of paper.

Marie read the elegant script and looked at Frankie questioningly. She didn't recognize the writing.

"So are ya gonna come see us play tomorrow?" Ally asked Marie with his mouth full of chips.

Her hands reached for a wrapper and placed a piece of fish and chips on top of it. She smiled to Ally as she expertly wrapped the food closed. "Wouldn't miss it," she winked then turned to reach a bottle of ginger.

Without question she handed Frankie his change, his food, and his order, saying goodbye to the nine-and a half-year-old.

Frankie simply smiled to the two as he left, the noise of the bell ringing as he exited.

Marie wiped the counter, trying to recall her train of thought. "I'll be there tomorrow. Tonight I'm taking Lizzie out for her birthday."

"Right." Ally glanced at his watch and leaned in to kiss Marie. "I've gotta get back to work," he told her, grabbing a handful of chips and stuffing them into his mouth.

A frown came across her face as she pulled away. "I'll see ya tomorrow then."

Ally turned to leave, waving as he walked towards the door.

"Ally?" Marie stopped him before he opened the door, recalling their conversation. "Why is your new piano player sensitive about the way he looks?"

He turned back to Marie then, amused by her expression of curiosity. "Oh I didn't tell ya? His left side of the face is normal but on the other he wears a white mask."

* * *

Marie had a hopeful smile as she handed the large manila envelope to Lizzie. "It just came today." 

Lizzie was in a daze as she looked down at the envelope in her hands. Her heart began to beat rapidly.

_It was from him_.

As much as she wanted to tear it open in front of Marie she decided to save it for later, taking it into the back room tucking it safely in her purse.

"Happy birthday!" Marie smiled, retrieved a package from behind the counter,and handed it to Lizzie.

Lizzie looked up at her in surprise. "Thank you, Marie. I wasn't expecting anything."

"It's not much, Lizzie, but open it now," Marie told her excitedly, hovering around her, hands practically wanting to open it for her.

Lizzie's hands tore open the wrapping and her eyes grew wide. A bright smile crossed Lizzie's face as she looked gratefully at her boss. "Buck Owens: Greatest Hits cd. It has my favorite song, 'The Great White Horse.' Thank you, Marie!"

Marie smiled proudly. "Oh that's not all. Tonight's our night to get out and have some fun!"

* * *

Erik was growing restless. 

He'd been in Glasgow almost a month, having settled in quite nicely. But it had been months since he'd experienced the pleasure of a female.

The man could only get by on composing for so long. _It was time._

_Tonight._

It was easy enough. _You can't rape the willing_. That had always been his motto.

It was never rape. The women he'd seduced with his voice were always willing partners. He'd speak to them in just the right tone, perhaps sing to them his music of the night. Despite the mask, women came to bed with him quite easily. Unfortunately it didn't last. Once they had their fill, they would snap out of their spell and leave his bed screaming bloody murder.

Erik couldn't trouble himself with that detail at that moment as he took in his reflection in the long mirror. His black slacks were pressed, his long-sleeved white shirt was crisp, and his long black overcoat draped his body perfectly. He dabbed a bit of cologne here and there, ready to take on the night. Smoothing back his jet-black hair, making sure every last strand was in place, he eyed his reflection head to toe and left his flat with a smile.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! I always appreciate your kind words.

Chapter 3

_"Lesson number one," he began, with stern blue eyes as he looked down at his young pupil seated in the tiny desk. "Hypnotism works only on the weak-minded, Erik. You'd be wise to remember that."_

_Eight-year-old Erik sat attentively, nodding and listening to every word; his eyes bright and filled with enthusiasm. "Yes, father."_

_"So what that means is that if a person has it within their will they can resist. But there are very few who can. Most people, son, in general are narrow-minded fools." He walked the room like a head master, his body straight as a board and fingers holding fast to a yardstick._

_"Like Mama? But she wakes up screaming in the middle of the night."_

_The man's brows crinkled together in annoyance and he forcefully banged the ruler on Erik's desk with a warning, leaning down, narrowing his eyes at his son. "Didn't I tell you not to speak of your mother?"_

_Erik winced and immediately hung his head, ashamed. "Yes, sir."_

_His father resumed his rigid stature, shaken by the boy's comment and began prowling the room like a panther. "Even the greatest hypnotist could not force someone to stay against their will. She loves me, Erik. Your mother loves me." The man was in his son's face again, his expression contorted threateningly. "Do you understand?"_

_The eight-year-old wasn't sure that he did understand, but nodded anyway. If there was one thing he did not want to do was incite the man's anger. "Yes, sir."_

_Satisfied, he looked down at his son and resumed his position in front of the chalkboard and began to write. "Lesson number two…"_

* * *

Her mouth fell open wide as she took in his handsome profile. "It's you. You left," Lizzie said, looping her arm through his. 

His tone changed then and the words flowed from his mouth like a gentle stream. "I'm here now," he told her, turning towards her, revealing his countenance. His blue eyes claimed hers possessively.

The mask was the first thing she saw and the last thing she remembered.

* * *

_Earlier that evening_

Lizzie hurriedly finished applying the last of her mascara, distracted by the manila envelope sitting on her dresser. Since she'd gotten home she'd barely had a chance to breathe. Marie would be there for her any moment. Unable to wait any longer, she sprung up from her chair and grabbed the envelope, reading the name. "Lizzie Morrison- care of Marie Connelly," she said in a low breath as though it was a secret she didn't want anyone to know about. The anticipation was welling up inside her. With her heart pounding, her finger tore along the seam impatiently and she emptied the contents of the large envelope.

Confused, Lizzie shuffled through the familiar envelopes and pages. Her heart sank. There were all the letters she'd given to the stranger from Frankie… and the one that was from her.

_That can't be it._

She set down page after page, envelope after envelope- twice. There was nothing else.

No response. She looked to the manila envelope again- not even a return address.

No letter; no card. _Nothing._

Lizzie shook her head and sighed, her heart crumbling to pieces. What did she expect? She hadn't written to him, after all.

Her hopes had been as high as the heavens. _Maybe_, she'd thought, _Frankie's letter would give him the encouragement to…_

_…to what? Write back?_

For three weeks she'd dreamt of him, night after night. _That kiss_. It hadn't ended with him, not for the past week but still that kiss haunted her every waking moment.

Somehow it always ended with that mask…

"Lizzie? Marie's here," Nell told her through the door, interrupting her thoughts.

Lizzie joined Marie, Nell, and Frankie in the living room fastening her other earring to her ear. Frankie was busy entertaining Marie with a magic trick he'd just learned.

Marie was impressed with Frankie's sleight of hand. "Did ya learn that in school, Frankie?"

"No," Lizzie cut in, "he has a new friend that's been teaching him. Every day he has a new trick."

An amused smile came across her face. "Bloody clever," she told him and winked, then turned to Lizzie. "Are ya ready to have some fun, birthday girl?" Marie asked, excitement written all over her face.

Nodding, Lizzie decided to put the stranger from her mind and enjoy herself. It was her birthday and she wasn't going to let anyone ruin it.

As Lizzie gave Frankie a hug goodnight, Nell took Marie aside. "Now don't let her drink too much, Marie. She gets loopy."

Marie smiled reassuringly. "Not a problem."

"Thanks again for the cake, Ma," Lizzie told her, hugging her mother in appreciation. "Good night."

Nell smiled to her daughter and Marie. "Have fun, Lizzie," she told the birthday girl. Lizzie definitely deserved it. "Happy birthday."

* * *

He sat in the shadows of the bar inconspicuously as his sharp blue eyes scoped out the variety of female patrons. Erik was quickly becoming impatient at the lack of decent selection of women. 

His critical eyes turned toward a smiling blond at the corner of the room. _Too plain_.

And so it went as his eyes scoured the bar for just the right one…

His lips turned to a frown as he mentally discarded woman after woman. _Too loud, too bubbly, too masculine…_

* * *

"One…two…three…" 

Marie and Lizzie counted in unison, sprinkling salt on their wrists, licking it, and downing their shots of tequila in one gulp with a slice of lime to follow. This was a new experience for Lizzie but after much practice she'd become an expert.

"Right, I think that was my last one," Marie stated with furrowed brows, wiping a wet spot on her blouse where the alcohol had spilled.

"An then yer arse fell off!" Lizzie told her, laughing. "You said that two bloody shots ago!"

"You're right," Marie agreed, her blue eyes glassy. She turned her gaze to the bartender and held up two fingers. "Two more."

A groan escaped Lizzie's lips and she held onto the bar for support. "No more, Marie. Seriously, I'm getting dizzy."

"Lizzie!" she cried out, "one more won't kill ya. After all it's yer birthday!" Marie slurred, noticing another wet spot on her blouse. "But first I'm gonna find the little girl's room and clean myself up."

Lizzie watched as her friend stumbled across the large crowded room, bumping into various people as she passed them and mumbling apologies. Settling herself onto the barstool Lizzie burst into senseless giggles.

* * *

Amusedly, his sharp blue eyes zoomed in on the luscious female sitting on the barstool four feet away from him. Her friend had just disappeared. 

Brown hair- brunettes were his favorite; _nice face…appetizing figure…smiling and laughing…and it was her birthday. What better gift was there?_

Erik smiled.

_Yes, I think we have a winner_, he thought to himself, taking a drink of his scotch.

That is, until the laughing lady began to sob.

* * *

_I'm twenty-nine years old_, she thought. Nearly thirty, living in a small flat, working part-time in a chip shop, and the man she'd inadvertently opened up her heart to hadn't shared her feelings. 

She'd promised herself not to think of it tonight especially since Marie had tried so hard to show her a good time as they wandered from bar to bar, dancing like crazy teenagers. Yet she couldn't stop the tears. Sobbing, Lizzie glanced back to see if Marie was coming yet. She definitely did not want Marie to find her this way. And what was worse she didn't want Marie to know that it was mostly because of her brother.

Lizzie wiped her tears with the back of her hand, telling herself to stop being a baby.

"Would you like a handkerchief?"

_That voice. It was hypnotic_. As Lizzie turned her eyes to the right she found a man facing forward but looking at her sidelong through deep blue eyes. His hand held a white handkerchief.

Inwardly she gasped at the man. Consumed by her troubles, she'd barely even noticed him there. Now as her eyes took in the sight of him they seemed unwilling to look anywhere else. His virile presence commanded her attention. The man was dressed impeccably and she noticed that every last one of his black hairs was neatly combed in place. _This man was definitely not from around here_. She smiled politely and accepted his handkerchief, realizing there was something oddly familiar about him. "Thank you," she said, dabbing at her eyes.

He hadn't faced her, but immediately she admired his profile, finding it strange that he didn't turn and look at her. Lizzie unabashedly took the handkerchief and blew her nose in a very loud, discordant fashion.

Erik winced slightly, holding back a frown. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She sniffled and dabbed at her nose. Immediately she shook her head, feeling embarrassed…and lightheaded. She may have had too much to drink but she wasn't about to open up to a complete stranger…again. "No, thank you."

_Hmmm_, Erik thought. He wished he didn't have to but it seemed as though he was going to have to use the voice.

"It's just that it's my birthday," she confided, sniffling and facing the strange man. She set the handkerchief down on her lap.

Erik smiled, still keeping his face forward. _She wasn't ready for the mask…not yet._

"Happy birthday."

Not knowing why, Lizzie continued, "Well, I'm nearly…" she paused, reconsidering stating her age. She shook her head. "Did you ever think that by a certain age, you would be where you wanted yourself to be?"

He nodded and opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted.

"That somehow or somewhere your life got completely off track and that you were meant for something better?" she asked, pushing the salt shaker back and forth between her two hands. _Or that once you found the courage to open your heart that it would be to the right person?_

In fact, he understood completely. A smile curved at his lips. _This was too easy_. He could already tell how much he was going to enjoy this woman, his eyes hungrily taking in the sight of her sizable chest. But there was something else. Her eyes intrigued him. They were warm and brown, and oddly magnetic; compelling him to look further into their depths. She fell silent then, and was watching him curiously.

"You look very familiar to me," she told him, pointing a finger with his handkerchief wrapped in her palm. "Do I know you?"

Erik smiled charmingly. "I don't think I've had the pleasure-"

"You remind me of someone. That's what it is."

He laughed then, and the smooth, silky sound of his laugh rocked Lizzie to the core.

"I must have one of those faces," he offered, both laughing and crying inside. _Who has a face like mine?_

With crinkled brows she leaned forward on the bar trying to get a peek at his whole face.

"Right then," Marie said, setting one hand on Lizzie's shoulder and the other on the bar. "One more and then we have to go."

Lizzie turned her attention to Marie, hoping that her face wasn't tear-streaked. "Right, well, Marie," Lizzie began gesturing to the man behind her, "this is my new friend…"

Marie turned curiously but to Lizzie's dismay, no one was sitting there.

"He's gone," Lizzie said sadly.

Her eyebrow shot up at Lizzie. "He? You've made a new friend, have ya?"

She tried to fight back the disappointment she was feeling. It had only been a couple of minutes but she'd found the man…comforting. "He's gone," she repeated softly.

Marie shrugged her shoulders and gestured to the bartender at the other end of the bar; flailing her arms wildly to get his attention. She held up two fingers and turned to Lizzie.

"Guess your friend had to leave in a hurry," Marie told her, wondering if there had actually been one at all. Perhaps he'd just been a figment of Lizzie's imagination.

Lizzie knew she had too much to drink because she felt tears coming again. For some reason she was feeling very deserted. "I guess so," she said softly.

The bartender set down two more shot glasses, filling them quickly and a smile took over Marie's face.

"Are ya ready?" Marie asked, picking up her salt shaker.

"Ready," Lizzie replied, salt shaker in hand.

"One…two…three…"

* * *

The two women stumbled out of the cab, laughing hysterically as Lizzie lost her footing, landing her on the curb in front of her building. 

Marie held onto the cab door for support, slightly concerned for her friend but unable to pull herself from her laughing fit. "Lizzie," she began in between laughs, "are you gonna make it upstairs?"

Lizzie picked herself up, hanging her purse back onto her shoulder unsuccessfully and stood facing Marie and the cab, feeling woozy from the head rush. She nodded. "I'll be fine."

Marie's eyes opened wide as she noticed that Lizzie was struggling for balance. "Oh yeah, how?"

"I'm fine, Marie," she insisted, slurring her words. "I'll crawl." Lizzie turned towards her door and took small steps. "See, I'm fine. I'm good," she told her, waving her away.

Marie stepped backward, letting go of the door, and fell back into the cab. "Alright. Good night."

Oblivious to the sound of the cab leaving, Lizzie opened the front door, holding onto the wall; thanking it for being there. "Thank you, wall," she said gratefully to the glass tiles. Her eyes turned towards the stairwell and she sighed at the insurmountable number of steps there were. She inched her way to the banister, grabbing onto it with her hand. Her purse, dangled from her wrist, banging against the rail and threatening to spill its contents. "Thank you, banister."

"May I be of some assistance?"

_It was that voice again_. She had to be dreaming or maybe it was a hallucination. Or maybe it was the countless number of shots she'd had. Holding tight onto the rail she placed one foot on the first step.

"Allow me..."

He was there and Lizzie could hardly believe her eyes, blinking at the tall figure beside her. He held out his arm for her to take.

Her mouth fell open wide as she took in his handsome profile. "It's you. You left," she told him, looping her arm through his.

His tone changed then and the words flowed from his mouth like a gentle stream. "I'm here now," he told her, turning towards her, revealing his countenance. His blue eyes claimed hers possessively.

The mask was the first thing she saw and the last thing she remembered.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks as always for the feedback! You really keep me going. I don't have a lot of time to write so hang in there with me...please! And review...I always love to hear from you.

Chapter 4

_The mask was the first thing she saw and the last thing she remembered._

* * *

Lizzie held tight to him, breathless; one hand on each side of his face. Her lips had melted into his once again and her fingers caressed the smooth surface of the mask. The pressure from his hands was blissfully welcome on her bare back, enveloping her in a bold embrace. Her hands moved quickly to the buttons of his long-sleeved shirt unearthing an appealing mass of dark chest hair. 

His soulful blue eyes never left hers and his body involuntarily shuddered as she lay a gentle hand over his beating heart in the most endearing motion.

Filled with desire she pulled him into another kiss, losing herself in the heated bliss of his lips, running fingers through his black hair. Her heart was pounding wildly, her body was begging him to want her as much as she wanted him, but so soon; too soon he pulled away and Lizzie's eyes popped open.

And then there was the screaming.

* * *

Lizzie sat up in her bed startled. There had been screaming coming from the flat below; a woman's high pitched shriek had awakened her from her dream. The scream had been fleeting and as the pounding inside her head began to heighten she questioned whether she'd actually heard anything at all. Her hands gripped her temples, and she fell back into her bed, willing the pounding to go away and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

It was always the same. 

An unconscious sigh escaped him as he watched the blond leave his flat. She'd been cute, petite, nothing special. Erik thought for a moment there that the sound of her terrified shriek would burst a mirror. He handled it the way he always had, adjusting his tone as he spoke to her, lulling her back to a state of calmness. And then she left.

Somehow the ache that followed the physical pleasure lingered.

He wondered as he often did if there would come a day when a woman wouldn't leave him screaming in terror. He wondered if it was possible that any woman would just want him for him, instead of being compelled by one of his spells. Erik doubted it. There had been only one woman and it hurt to think of her now.

Then there was Lizzie. It would've been so easy. They had been but a few feet from his flat. It was too tempting. He craved the feel of her soft body against his so much he could taste it. Her eyes had captured his soul and his mind couldn't help but wonder if Lizzie would leave him screaming; her beautiful eyes wide with horror, begging for release as though he were some freak of nature. As Erik led the irresistible, intoxicated female back to his flat, she'd lost her footing and he'd caught her from the waist before she hit the floor. However, her purse had fallen, spilling its contents.

That was where he saw it. It was the reason he couldn't go through with it. The charming, vulnerable, voluptuous woman wasn't just any woman, he realized as he helped her pick up the fallen objects from her purse: a brush, some mascara, keys, billfold, and some pictures; one with Frankie. Here before him, enticing and defenseless was none other than his young friend's mother…and as much as he wanted to, Erik just couldn't do it.

* * *

Shaking her head, Nell set down two aspirin and a glass of water on the table in front of her daughter. 

Lizzie covered her head with both hands, face towards the table. Her head pounded like a hammer and she shut her eyes tight willing the throbbing to stop.

With bright eyes Frankie finished up the last of his cereal and set his bowl in the sink. He gave his mother a quick peck on the top of her head.

Lizzie lifted her eyes to her son noticing that for a Saturday morning he was fully dressed and raring to go. "Just wait one second, now," she told him, grabbing his wrist. "Where you off to?"

Both Nell and Lizzie watched Frankie curiously as he signed, "Friend."

Nell's eyes settled questioningly on her grandson. "You've been spending a lot of time with this friend."

"Yah, Frankie. I want to meet him. How about we have him over for dinner?" Lizzie suggested through squinted eyes, still not used to the bright light of the kitchen.

Frankie's eyes widened and he shook his head. With lightning speed he signed, "He is shy."

Her head was still throbbing and Lizzie rubbed at her aching temples. "Right. Well I still want to meet him...sometime."

With an agreeable smile, Frankie backed away and left before his mum or nana could ask any more questions.

Lizzie winced at the sound of the door slamming shut, and reached for the two aspirin.

Nell shot a disapproving eye at her daughter. "I told Marie not to let you drink too much, but apparently you don't either of you have the good sense to know better," she reprimanded, sitting down at the table in her robe and reaching for her cigarettes.

"Ma, please don't lecture me. My bloody head is pounding as it is," Lizzie replied, swallowing the aspirin in one large gulp. That reminded her, she and Marie had been taking tequila shots.

Lighting up her cigarette, Nell continued, "It's just that a woman your age, Lizzie...well you should bloody know better. For God's sake-"

"Mother, I've learned my lesson. Please!"

Silence.

"What were you two up to last night anyway?" Nell asked, stirring the tea in her cup.

With a sigh, Lizzie looked upward as if it would help her to recall the previous evening's events. "We went dancing, Ma, and we drank...too much." _Was that it?_ She'd fallen out of the cab, but somehow couldn't remember making it up to her room...

Nell sighed at her daughter's childish behavior. "Is that it?"

Lizzie's eyes met her mother's. "Yes, that I can remember-"

"Jesus, God!"

"I made it home safely. I'm here now, and it's not likely I'm going to be doing it again anytime soon, so can we drop it?" Lizzie asked her, exasperated.

There was more silence as Nell continued to puff on her cigarette, fuming. Lizzie had taken to searching her mind for what had happened when a thought occurred to her.

"Mother, do you remember hearing a woman screaming in the middle of the night? It sounded like it was coming from the flat below us."

The older woman looked at her daughter as though she were from another planet. "No, Lizzie, I didn't hear anything." She gave Lizzie another weird look.

"Right. Look who I'm asking. You sleep like the dead. I swear I heard it. It was loud and piercing...and scary."

"If you say so, Lizzie. Sometimes you think you hear the piano playing but I never bloody hear it. It's just like how you don't believe me about that awful man in the laundry room," Nell reminded.

"Speaking of laundry, are you going to do some tonight? I barely have any knickers left."

A smile fell across her face. "Aye. I've fallen behind on the laundry. I'll get it done. Tonight." Masked man or no masked man, Nell would be ready for him.

* * *

With a smile Frankie settled himself onto the chair at the dining table, his eyes admiring the glossy cherry finish. He was content just watching as Erik played the piano and composed. He set down the two orders he'd picked up from Marie's. Erik had asked for fish and chips as usual, and Frankie ordered chips for himself. His hands reached for his order and he began to nibble on the chips, his eyes darting back to Erik who was intently working. 

Frankie had rather liked this arrangement. He'd been apprehensive at first, but quickly learned that Erik was someone he could trust. Having spent many hours with him he was surprised at Erik's solitary life. His flat had always seemed dark, and as he composed he preferred to light it with several candles. It was a bit spooky and different to Frankie, but after he got used to it, he found that he liked it.

Erik finished the last bar of music and stopped, remembering the young boy watching him. He turned and found the nine-year-old watching him with a smile. There were many things he liked about Frankie. He was innocent, honest, and anxious to learn new things. And he wasn't afraid of the mask.

To Erik it was tragic beyond words that the boy was deaf. In his worst nightmares, Erik couldn't imagine living his life in a world without sound; without music. What would his life be without the beauty of song, or the majesty of its harmony? Surely it would be worse than the fiery flames of hell. What else was there for Erik? An idea popped into his head and he smiled to Frankie, using his graceful hands to sign, and speaking the words. "Come here, Frankie." He gestured to the boy to come to the piano.

He nodded and quickly joined Erik, pleased as always that they could communicate with ease. He stood beside him and signed to him again. "How come you know sign language?"

A smile curved at his lips. Frankie was a smart one and always inquisitive. Erik's hands gestured. "I know several languages. My father taught me when I was about your age, but sign language is one I have had the pleasure of practicing on some of my travels."

He stood then and placed the young boy's hand on top of the piano. Erik sat up straight on the bench meeting Frankie's curious eyes and signed to him again. "Now just feel the vibration," he directed. "Listen with your hand." Erik played odd notes on the piano, his eyes making sure Frankie was doing as he asked.

Frankie nodded as he felt each new vibration with each new touch of the key.

"Now," he signed, "put your other hand there as well."

Obediently Frankie set his hands side by side on top of the shiny black piano top enjoying the pulsation.

Slowly Erik began to play a song; one of the first songs he'd ever composed, and watched Frankie as his hands felt the sound from the piano. He paused for just a moment. "Now close your eyes, Frankie."

Eyes closed, Frankie stood there as Erik played. The sounds and vibrations reverberated through his hands. The subtle change in frequencies impressed him, and as Erik continued endlessly, Frankie was lost in the music. Mesmerized by the resonance, the rhythmic pattern in the vibrations; for once in his young life Frankie could feel the music, imagining it in his mind, blessing his soul with its beauty and right then and there in that one morning his spirit soared to new heights.

* * *

Nell flipped on the light as she entered the laundry room, her eyes immediately finding the man in his usual spot near the wall. She could hear the noise from the washer, pounding its way through the final cycle. With laundry basket in hand she walked in, saying nothing, nodding her greeting. 

Erik did the same, somewhat surprised by the woman's pleasantness. But at the same time, he noted, she wore a smirk. He opened up the lid to the washer and began to remove the clothing.

She set her basket on top of the washer and pulled out her coin purse. Nell knew he didn't want to talk.

_But it didn't have to be deathly silent_.

Purposely she moved the coin purse around, jingling the coins exaggeratedly, pretending to search for a needed coin.

Irritated, he looked at her. The jingling was beginning to give him a headache. _How long did it take to find a bloody coin?_ Erik sighed and shook his head, realizing that this woman was baiting him...again.

This time he delightfully imagined sticking her thick head in the washer and closing the lid tightly on her neck.

He put the last of the clothes into the dryer, adjusting the setting, and quickly deposited the coins.

She filled the washer with clothes, and began clearing her throat.

"Is it too much to ask, Madame, to have some silence?"

Nell turned her eyes angrily to him. "Why yes, Mr. Fancypants, it bloody is. By the way," she began, reaching for her cigarettes from the basket. "Do ya always wear the same clothes?"

"Do you always have to smoke? Smoking is a filthy habit."

Cigarette in mouth, she lit it up again blowing smoke in his direction. "So I've heard," she said dryly, enjoying how he was waving the smoke away. "What ya got on beneath that mask? Were ya trampled by horses as a wee babe?" Nell giggled at her Elephant Man reference.

Erik was not amused. He turned on her then, covering his mouth as he coughed. In a grand gesture he lifted a graceful hand and snapped his fingers.

The light went out.

In the darkness Nell began to laugh. "I'm not impressed by your parlor tricks." She felt around in her basket and pulled out a long flashlight, holding it up like a mighty sword. "Ha ha!" she said flicking on the flashlight, pointing the bright lamp to his face.

He rolled his eyes as she continued to laugh.

"Thought you were so bloody clever, eh?" she said, pleased with herself.

Once again he snapped his fingers. And the light from the flashlight went out.

"Bloody hell."

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Ten years earlier_

"Tell me it will always be like this, Erik."

Her dark brown eyes were wide and starry as she gazed at him. She had entwined her long bare legs with his, her toes running along his leg flirtatiously.

Erik kissed the top of her head, breathing a long, happy sigh. "It will always be like this, Christine," he replied fondly, running his fingers through her long auburn locks and snuggling her closer.

_The Opera Ghost._

To many of the famed Paris opera house's performers, inhabitants, and workers he had been the opera ghost. For years he'd haunted the large theater and its large number of employees.

Indeed he was the phantom of the opera and Erik enjoyed his role as puppeteer. He likened the public and managers to puppets. It was a role he enjoyed.

The police had eagerly pursued him, but always fell victim to one of his cleverly devised traps. For years he'd prowled the legendary pathways beneath the beautiful city of Paris. Hidden safely within the countless passageways he could surely never be found.

Only Christine knew the way. The devil himself could not find Erik, she mused. She'd known him better than anyone. He was a genius and while many saw him as a threat, dangerous and scary, Christine had come to know the man behind the mask; flesh and blood, passionate, impossibly talented, imperfect, and tender. He had been her teacher, her lover, and her friend.

Sated and happy, the young woman smiled. She loved the way Erik held her and how she felt safe in the warmth of his strong arms. Christine ran a slender finger along the mask, taking in the smooth texture, observing how it nearly melded with the rest of the skin on the right side of his face. She smiled to herself.

He hadn't flinched this time when she touched it.

It was a matter of trust, and until he'd become involved with the young ingenue, Erik had trusted no one.

Nearly fifteen years her senior, he'd taken the girl under his wing. At eight-years-old she'd come into the care of a distant relative at the opera house. Recently orphaned and vulnerable, with eyes like a doe, Erik had been drawn to her like a magnet.

Night after night he'd watched as she lay in bed. He soothed her with his song as she shed mournful tears.

She was like a withered flower and he'd guided and nurtured the young orphan. Years passed and to his delight the withered flower blossomed into a stunning bloom. It wasn't long before Erik had found himself undeniably in love with the innocent creature. She possessed an old-fashioned beauty, with her long, spiral curls and flawless features. Christine reminded him of a porcelain doll; fragile, delicate, and sweet, with a voice like an angel. Erik could not resist her.

No love was deeper or purer, and holding the young beauty in his arms was the closest his miserable soul had ever come to heaven.

"I'm so nervous, Erik. What if I mess up? What if they hate me?" she asked, leaning up on her elbow, her large eyes filled with worry, her rose-colored lips formed an anxious frown.

Erik laughed and set a comforting kiss on her lips, his eyes shining with adoration. "Nonsense. Just sing the way we rehearsed and you'll have all of Paris eating out of your hands."

A grateful smile took the place of the frown. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Erik," she told him, falling into the comfort of his arms and nuzzling her face against his bare chest. "You are my angel- my guardian angel."

His eyes fell upon the large clock at his bedside. "It is only three hours until your performance. Time to warm up." He sat up in the bed, reaching for his clothes and handing her a silk robe. "Come, my angel of music. Sing for me."

* * *

The man and woman's singing voices echoed lightly through the room. Lost in the sweet lyrics, her mind was enveloped in an unforgettable memory. 

It was madness.

She could still feel the warmth of his arms around her, the way his hand felt on her back, strong yet gentle. She'd felt as though her heart had come alive as she gazed up into his turquoise eyes. His smile had claimed her and she was lost to his intoxicating charm. And yet, Lizzie didn't even know his name.

Tears streamed down Lizzie's face as her fingers reached toward the off button on the CD player on her nightstand. The light was dim. Everyone was asleep and yet as Lizzie lay curled up in her bed a sob escaped her lips and she resisted the temptation to play the song again.

_Her favorite song_.

She'd played it every night since Marie had given it to her - and every night she told herself that she was being silly. The stranger wasn't coming back for her. It was a truth that Lizzie faced and her heart ached from it.

Bitterly she pressed the off switch on the CD player when a faint, soft music filled her ears.

It was the piano. The instrument delivered a haunting lullaby. Distracting Lizzie from her sadness, its soothing refrain embraced her, lulling her into a calm and relaxed state. The hypnotic tempo comforted her and her eyelids began to feel heavy. She didn't give a thought to where the music came from or why it was playing at this moment. Through her very being they passed; the gentle sounds of tranquil notes, embracing her in their welcoming arms, easing her thoughts.

Before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.

* * *

It was killing her, but Marie didn't dare ask. Her friend was a mystery to her. Her brother was even worse. She'd been dying to know what it was that he'd sent to Lizzie, excited by the large envelope thick with...only God knew what. Marie was determined not to get involved but she couldn't help but wonder what was going on in her employee's mind. For all she knew there might've been some kind of secret correspondence going on. Or, Lizzie had opened herself up to the idea of dating again. There had been the man at the bar the other night that Lizzie had claimed to befriend. Although, in Lizzie's tipsy state she couldn't say for sure if her friend had just imagined it. Marie had been surprised by the look of disappointment on Lizzie's face when the man had vanished. She had covered it up with her smile, but Marie was not fooled by Lizzie's act. 

Whatever it was sure had Lizzie in a fog today. Several minutes had passed while Lizzie had been wiping at the counter, her eyes as far away as the stars.

Marie waved her hand in front of Lizzie's face. "Hello?"

Lizzie's eyes blinked as she snapped back to reality, noticing her boss's amused expression.

"Do ya think you were gonna be finished wiping that counter sometime today?" Marie asked, her blue eyes glittering playfully.

"Oh, right," Lizzie replied, slightly embarrassed. Setting the cloth aside, her eyes focused out on the dirty plates and napkins on several of the tables. She scooted past Marie, and silently reprimanded herself as she set out purposefully to clear the mess away.

Lizzie's mind was cluttered with too many thoughts. First and foremost, there was the stranger. Her nightly dreams had begun with him. It was frustrating for her. She longed to be rid of his memory. Her heart felt as though it was chained to her memories of the man, handsome, idyllic, and perfect. As much as she yearned to drill Marie with questions about her brother, she refused to give in to the temptation. It was one sweet memory - and that's all that it was; Lizzie knew she would have to accept that.

There was no forgetting the man from the bar- polite, handsome, devastatingly familiar. His beautiful voice had broken down her stubborn barriers. Her memories from that night were fuzzy at best, but she did recall the blow her ego had taken when the man had disappeared. Lizzie also recalled the delight of having encountered him in her building. He had offered his help and she had accepted. She vaguely remembered a mask but had no clue of how she made it upstairs to her flat.

Then there was the masked man from her dreams...

If not for her dreams, Lizzie thought, she might actually have a chance of living as an ordinary human being. If there was not the heavy residue of feelings she wished to keep hidden, her mind might be able to function normally. The masked man in those dreams wouldn't haunt her with his kisses, his deep blue eyes wouldn't possess her mind with their passion, and her soul wouldn't yearn to know him.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for hanging in there with me. As usual I always love to hear from you. Please review! 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Women," he began, straightening his posture and clearing his throat, "are superior creatures, Erik." He turned to his young son seated in his customary desk.

Eleven-year-old Erik furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. At such a young age, he had not much regard for the fairer sex.

"They feel, love, think with their hearts. They crave peace and happiness."

Erik listened as his father continued endlessly to spout the virtues of woman, witnessing a rare moment. His father's normal stern, handsome features embraced a look of wonder, his deep blue eyes were shining, and to Erik he almost appeared...lovesick.

"Man can create great technology. He can explore, conquer; put a man on the moon." He paused as to stress the next point. "But women give birth to new life," he paused again, shaking his head in wonder. "And no matter how much man will aspire to creating or learning or advancing, we will never be a match to that. Not scientifically, not mentally, and not spiritually."

The man stood before his young son, touching the end of his yardstick to Erik's chin, raising it to meet his gaze. "Because of this, the woman who holds your heart must be treated with the utmost respect, with honor, with love...and nothing less." His eyes turned to the boy and he nearly laughed at his son's clueless expression before turning his attention to the clock.

"Hurry now, Erik, collect your books and your lunch. You don't want to be late for the school bus."

* * *

_You're my April, you're my May. Singing dum dee dum dum...dum dee dee dum._

* * *

_Oh, what kind of torture was this_, he wondered. Surely it must have been the sin of the worst sort for him to have to endure this sentence. 

Lizzie Morrison. _Forbidden fruit._

_She must have been a witch_, he thought, having the power to cast a spell over _him_.

And indeed she had.

Her eyes had drowned him, the rich chocolate color inviting him, holding his soul at will, enveloping him in a tidal wave with no hope of survival.

Vulnerable, beautiful, strong; these were the things Erik had come to learn about his young friend's mother. He'd barely noticed her before that night…and now his thoughts turned reluctantly to her more often than he cared to admit. He watched her in the shadows, always in hiding. His keen ears listened to her from his flat, taking in any audible sound from above. In anticipation he waited to hear her gentle voice.

Erik learned that she rose early and hurried off to work at the chip shop, giving each patron her personal attention. Fondly, he watched as she took their orders, brushing the bangs from her eyes. How he would've loved to stroke the soft strands from her face, and feel the smoothness of her skin.

He knew that she reserved a hug and kiss for her son whenever she'd greeted him. She'd set her motherly gaze upon the young boy and Erik could feel the familial warmth that he so craved.

He knew that when she smiled, that it was like the warmth of the sun on a cold day; that the comfort of her light could give luminosity to his dark world.

He knew that on the outside she was stronger than a hurricane.

He knew that on the inside her heart was weeping.

How many times had he heard her, late at night, crying herself to sleep? It was a puzzle to him. There was so much he yearned to know about his upstairs neighbor and regretted that he never would.

He wondered why she listened to a certain song over and over again. It was an old tune, a love song, sentimental and sweet. Erik could feel the longing in its every word; it spoke to his heart, tugging at it with its wistful lyrics. More than anything, he wanted to know why, after listening to that song, she would burst into sobs.

* * *

Frankie hated this. He'd been dreading it for the past few days. He had no choice, he rationalized. Nana and his mother had begun asking too many questions. His hands signed the heartbreaking message and he waited quietly as Erik sat very still on the piano bench. The man's mouth was set in a line and Frankie thought he caught a hint of gloss in his eyes. Frankie had been witness to the scope of emotions found there. He'd seen happiness, laughter, trust, and now he saw a deep sadness. The pain he was feeling now was worse than an arrow through the heart. 

Erik thought very carefully before he began to sign and spoke. "You're right, Frankie. People don't willingly accept me. Your mother would not understand and that's okay. You most certainly could not bring me home for dinner," he laughed.

The smile was there, and although he couldn't hear the sound of the laughter, the face didn't match the emotion; he knew the sadness that rested in his eyes, and it tugged at his heart because Frankie was perfectly aware. He was his only friend.

The boy's gaze dropped low to the floor, and a pout overtook his lips.

"I'll be alright, Frankie," Erik continued, reaching his hand up to the boy's chin in a fatherly gesture. Frankie's eyes met his blue ones hesitantly. "I have enjoyed every second of the time we had together. No matter what...I'll always be your friend. Just because we can't spend time together does not mean we can't still be friends." His heart was breaking with every word. He'd in fact grown quite attached to the boy and looked forward to his visits. Being the realist that he was, Erik knew it couldn't last. It was only a matter of time...

Frankie nodded politely, but Erik's response did not do much to console him.

It was bittersweet as Erik smiled again. "Thank you, Frankie for giving me the gift of your friendship. It means more to me than you'll ever know."

It seemed as though Frankie's body had its own will as he threw himself into Erik's arms, squeezing him tightly. Erik held him close, and his eyes shut, experiencing the warmth of the long-forgotten comfort of an embrace. He'd felt another foreign sensation welling up in his eyes.

"Goodbye, Frankie."

* * *

_When I was a young girl, I used to dream of a lover, who'd be my shining knight of strength one day... _

Lizzie's thoughts were consumed by the masked man. There had been many sightings; Cindy had voiced her own attraction. Her mother had claimed to encounter him in the laundry room, always telling a rather unbelievable tale, Lizzie thought; and numerous others had gossiped about him in the chip shop.

_It couldn't be._

He couldn't possibly be the same masked man that had haunted her dreams; the mysterious, sexy, larger than life being that had awoken her inner longings night after night. His seductive blue eyes baited her like a hungry fish to a worm. His fiery kisses sent her into constant reverie.

_No, that man couldn't possibly exist._

Marie had told her that the masked man played the piano beautifully but that she had never seen his face. As requested, he remained unseen to the audience. Once the performance was over he'd disappeared, seemingly into thin air. One day, Lizzie mused, she would like to get a look at this man.

Lizzie snapped her attention back to the sink of dirty dishes, grasping a cup and running the sponge along the inside and outer edges.

_What if it was the same man?_

Her pulse began to race at just the thought. In her dreams she could hardly keep her hands off him. The physical attraction was unlike any she could recall - passionate, primal, desperate. Lizzie couldn't help but wonder what it all meant...or if it meant anything at all. What if her mind had conjured up this desirable dream figure to lure her thoughts from the stranger?

Lizzie nodded to herself. That sounded reasonable. The subconscious mind is capable of providing answers in dreams...unless they sparked more questions...

She froze all of a sudden, her hands dropping the cup back into the soapy water. As her eyes turned downward she felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise, and she let out a loud piercing scream.

* * *

Alarmed, Erik's eyes turned upward at the sound. Quickly he dropped his pencil, letting it fall onto the keys of the piano. _Lizzie...she was in trouble_. He stood up from the bench and flew up the stairs, finding himself at her front door. He didn't think about what her reaction might be to seeing his face; at that moment he didn't care. With a balled fist he banged on the door, ready to break it down if she didn't answer. 

He heard some shuffling, her sweet voice whimpering. The fear climbed up his spine like a poisonous spider. "Hello?" Silence. "Are you okay in there?" he called out, his voice rising with each syllable; banging his fist on the door again.

The door opened and Lizzie stood before him. One hand held a large frying pan, and the other held the doorknob. Her mouth fell wide open and her eyes stared at the man before her in wonder.

But, she didn't scream.

Erik took that as a good sign. "I reside in the flat below and I heard screaming. Is everything alright?"

_That voice_. She remembered that voice. It had comforted and tempted her all at the same time with its smooth masculine timbre. From where did she remember it? Her chest slowly began to rise and fall as her eyes bore into him curiously. There he was standing three feet from her, her amazing masked dream visitor. Once she was able to close her mouth, she felt her cheeks flush at the sight of him. She could recall the ethereal feeling of his hands on her back. Tall, flesh and blood, achingly handsome...and right before her eyes.

What was that he saw in her eyes - a flicker of recognition? Did she remember? Erik cleared his throat, feeling self-conscious, turning the right side of his face slightly away in a feeble attempt to hide the mask.

As Lizzie took in his profile, his posture, his amazing deep blue eyes, it hit her like a ton of bricks.

"It's you."

* * *

"A mouse." 

Sure she felt silly and embarrassed as she allowed him to follow her inside the flat. But it was her irrational fear of rodents that drove her to it, that, and the nagging feeling inside urging her not to let him leave. Her mind spun with the realization that this man really did exist and that he was her new neighbor. The blue of his eyes shone brightly, and she thought she even caught a hint of a smile on his lips. His mask allured her with its mystique and only served to ignite her fascination. However, Lizzie could sense his discomfort. She found herself compelled by his vulnerability. Like a rock he stood before her, tall and strong. He was there, he offered his help; who was she to deny him? Taking careful steps, she held the pan up like a bat ready to swing at the tiny critter.

Erik followed behind closely, but not so close as to be struck by the pan. His eyes couldn't help follow the figure before him, admiring the curves he knew were hidden temptingly beneath the jeans and blouse. He couldn't help feeling pleased by her invitation. It didn't matter that she'd invited him in solely to dispatch a troublesome mouse. What did matter was that this beautiful neighbor with whom he'd become quite fixated hadn't slammed the door in his face; that she trusted Erik enough to allow him into her flat. It was a rarity- it almost made him feel human. As he made his way behind her, he began again to feel self-conscious as his eyes filled with the light that shot in through the windows. He wanted to will the hated sun away as it embraced the space with its unwelcome brightness.

Before they reached the kitchen, Lizzie stopped and turned to him, setting the pan down on a nearby table. She looked to him with grateful eyes and held out her hand. "I'm Lizzie."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lizzie. My name is Erik," he replied, meeting her hand with his. Politely he shook her hand, never realizing how much pleasure he could receive from a handshake; how soft her skin would feel against his palm, how nicely their two hands fit together, how inviting the feel of her thumb was against his knuckle. He smiled pleasantly, charmed more and more by her with each passing second.

The two stood there, awkwardly shaking hands, silently, eyes locked, neither wanting to be the first to pull away. Erik could feel the undeniable connection to this woman. This was not a mere flirtation. He could see it in her eyes, how they begged for entrance to his soul. He could see it in the telltale rosy color claiming her cheeks. He could feel it in the gentle yet firm grip of her hand.

His mind argued that she was only being kind. She couldn't possibly be attracted to him. The mask had rarely failed to frighten people away. For this reason Erik preferred his solitary life. It was peaceful, it was comfortable, but now, as he lost himself in her inviting gaze, he didn't find his solitude so appealing. It felt sad and lonely. He liked that when Lizzie looked at him she didn't stare at the mask; it made him feel like it didn't exist, as though he were an ordinary man...like everyone else.

A tiny squeaking noise broke their spell and Erik's attention turned hesitantly toward the kitchen. He smiled, feeling an unfamiliar schoolboy timidity. "I do believe I have a mouse to catch."

* * *

_Ten incredibly short minutes later_

"I can't thank you enough, Erik," Lizzie told him appreciatively, gesturing to the plastic bag he was holding in his hands as she led him to the front door.

"It was my pleasure, Lizzie," he told her wholeheartedly, feeling a bit sad about leaving. His fingers grasped the tied handles to the bag, holding it at arm's length. "Anytime," he added.

Shivers crawled up her body at the sound of her name. She couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about the way he said it with his proper English tongue. Perhaps it was the smooth way it passed through his lips. Or maybe it was the glint in his blue eyes as he spoke it...or even that when he spoke her name it sounded as though it was meant only for him to say. Lizzie smiled to him, unconsciously blocking the entrance of the door so he could not pass. "I might just take you up on that," she laughed. "There are times when having a man around is very..." she stopped. They were barely a couple of feet apart; their bodies seemed to contain a magnetic energy. Her eyes met his once again. "Useful."

He felt himself falling into her eyes again. "I mean it. Anytime you need anything, I am your humble servant. Is there anything else that I can help with...since I'm here?"

Her eyes turned upward thoughtfully, and she was loath to let him go. A smile curved at her lips. "Well, since you're here..."

* * *

A/N: The italicized lyrics are from "The Great White Horse" by Buck Owens and Susan Ray. Thanks as always for your feedback. Please review! 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

It was her dirty little secret.

Lizzie had her reasons for keeping her newfound friendship to herself. First, she was perfectly aware that her mother would never approve, having made the connection that the masked man from the laundry room was undoubtedly Erik. She was also aware that her mother had been prone to exaggeration on several occasions and for one reason or another managed to rub people the wrong way. Second, Lizzie found that no matter how much she tried she could hardly pry her thoughts from her handsome neighbor. The dreams hadn't ceased since she'd met Erik, in fact, they'd only become more erotic. Sometimes as she'd taken out the trash and happily found her charming masked friend there, she could barely contain her blush; his deep blue eyes penetrated her like an x-ray machine as though they could see every little secret, every sinful thought, every desire.

Her mother, however, was beginning to get suspicious.

Lizzie hummed to herself nonchalantly as she washed the dishes and Nell opened up the door to the refrigerator. Curiously the older woman opened and closed it, and opened and closed it again, her eyes narrowing at the light that shone back at her.

"The light works now. The bloody light works," Nell commented, pulling out the cream from the top shelf.

Humming, Lizzie decided not to acknowledge her mother's remark.

Nell shut the door suspiciously and set the cream down on the table. "What's going on, Lizzie?"

Scrubbing a plate, she focused all her attention on some very stubborn dried red sauce. "Hmmm?"

"I know the landlord hasn't been here yet all of a sudden, the refrigerator light's working, the shower's not leaking, and my door doesn't get stuck anymore when I close it."

"Right," Lizzie replied, scrubbing the sauce on the plate as though her life depended on it. "I-"

Nell interrupted. "Please don't tell me you did it, Elizabeth. You're rubbish at fixing things. Now how about you tell me who you're paying to do this?"

Before Lizzie could answer Frankie joined them in the kitchen, pulling a box of cereal and a bowl from the cupboard. Lizzie was grateful for the distraction and hastily dropped the soapy sponge back into the sink. Quickly she dried off her hands with a towel and met her son's eyes as he seated himself at the table.

"Are you meeting with your friend today?" she asked, desperately trying to change the subject.

Nell looked up from her tabloid, sipping from her coffee mug, curious about the boy's response. For weeks her grandson had spent every possible moment with this new friend and as of late he'd stopped altogether.

Frankie's eyes focused on the sugary flakes he was pouring into his bowl. He simply shook his head.

Lizzie's eyebrow shot up and she wondered if she should be concerned. Standing beside him she took the box of cereal from him closing up the inner plastic lining. She kneeled down and met his eyes. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

Careful not to aggravate the situation Frankie smiled and nodded his head. He'd gone this long evading their questions and the last thing he wanted to do was stir their suspicions. With a casual spoonful of cereal in his mouth he signed calmly to his mother, "I'm meeting Catriona at the library."

His eyes picked up the look his mum and nana gave each other. Inwardly he smiled knowing that the two women would be satisfied with his response...for now. He made no further gestures and scooped another spoonful of his cereal. To his relief his mum went back to doing the dishes and his nana went back to her tabloid.

* * *

It was annoyingly quiet. 

Erik usually preferred the silence but now the only sound his ears wished to hear were the welcome patter of footsteps- not just any footsteps; he anticipated the sound of gentle shoes tapping against the steps making their way downward. Eagerly he awaited his lovely upstairs neighbor; ready and hoping for another chance encounter. There had been many "chance" meetings over the past few days and Erik had looked forward to every one of them. Patiently he waited by the door, his sharp blue eyes peeking out from the small peephole, not even caring that the surface of the mask was making a clicking noise as it made contact with the wood from the door.

Perhaps at any moment he would catch a flash of white from her tennis shoes, the faded blue denim of her jeans following as she skipped gracefully down the steps. Any second may bring the pleasant smile that graced her lips, the sparkle from those rich chocolate colored eyes, the gentle bounce from her ponytail.

And from her delicate hand a tied, plastic bag must surely dangle. The size mattered not.

_Trash._

Surely garbage had never meant so much to any one human being as it had meant to Erik at this moment. That plastic bag was his only ticket, his only admission to be within her presence. He'd readily complied with her requests. It had been his pleasure to tend to her repairs. Although she would have been welcomed Lizzie was a lady and never seeked him out. Somehow it was more comfortable to meet the way they were; out in the foyer on the way to the dumpster. It was private, it was easy, it was... necessary. During these meetings Lizzie would summon up the courage to speak to him, to smile, to laugh, to chat; to accept his offer to help whenever there was some domestic matter that needed fixing.

For the moment it was what he lived for.

The opera ghost...

It was ironic to think that at one time he'd practically ruled that large Parisian opera house...and now he was only too happy to act as a handyman for a woman.

The phantom of the opera...

It was a lifestyle that he'd left ages ago. For many years it had suited him, it fed his lust for power and drowned out his pathetic need for acceptance, and he'd rather enjoyed it, but once Christine left it was over.

_Christine_...

When she'd left she'd taken his heart with her. Life as the opera ghost was over and it was time to move on.

* * *

Through every room Lizzie passed, her pace hurried, in search of wastebaskets. Lizzie cursed to herself as she left Frankie's room. Unfortunately his small wastebasket had been empty. In fact, to her dismay they all had been. This morning she'd already taken out the trash. And she'd all but snapped at her mother for running the kitchen trash down herself. In a huff Lizzie headed to the kitchen and began pulling out some grocery bags from underneath the sink. An old saying flashed in her mind like a bright neon sign. 

_Desperate times called for desperate measures._

Nell raised an eyebrow as she watched her daughter. A cigarette hung low from her lips as her fingers prepared to turn to the next page of her tabloid. Nell couldn't help feeling that her daughter had been acting very strange lately and now she appeared to be filling a plastic bag with rolled up newspaper.

Coolly she set the cigarette down on the ashtray, exhaling a long puff of smoke. Nell shook her head as she watched Lizzie stuff the bag in an almost desperate fashion. "What are you doing?" she asked impatiently.

Lizzie's eyes widened as she looked to her mother, and willed her mind to think of something quickly, any explanation as to what she was doing. She shrugged her shoulders. "Right, it's just that...well, we have all these bloody plastic bags and all these newspapers...so, I thought I would run them down to the dumpster." _Right. That's it_.

Unimpressed by her daughter's reply, Nell's eyes remained locked on the younger woman. Sometimes, she thought to herself, Lizzie had done some pretty odd things. Writing letters to her son and pretending that they were from Davey was one thing, but then she actually had the nerve to hire a strange man to act the part. And now...only God knew what was going through her daughter's mind. Something was definitely going on. That nagging feeling had bitten Nell over and over like a pesky mosquito. However, at this moment she didn't want to invite any more drama into her life. Day by day the hamper filled with dirty clothes. Laundry night was looming over her like a stormy cloud. With a sigh she put out her cigarette and stood up from her chair.

"Have fun then," Nell told her sarcastically, closing up the pages of her gossip magazine. "I think I'll have a bit of fun myself and rearrange my sock drawer."

Lizzie's brows shot together questioningly at her mother's biting remark, catching her off guard. She set the newspaper down for a moment as her mother gave her another curious look. Relief flooded her face when her mother left the kitchen. Her fingers turned happily to the newspaper and she began to hum to herself as she filled another plastic bag.

* * *

Nervously she skipped down the steps, the two filled trash bags dangling from both hands. A faint rosy blush played about her cheeks. Enough was enough, she told herself. She wasn't a schoolgirl with some kind of silly crush just hoping to catch the object of her affection. Well, at least that's what she told herself. The familiar quickening of her pulse, and sweaty palms made her feel otherwise. For nearly a week she and Erik had been going on like this, meeting to dump trash. It was friendly, always platonic, comfortable, and in Lizzie's flat there always seemed to be something that needed fixing. Lizzie was extremely grateful for his help, and in her mind no amount of words could convey it. At this point she wasn't willing to admit to herself that it was more than appreciation that she wanted to express but today she had decided. 

_Enough was enough._

It was time to take this neighborly relationship to the next level. She was going to thank him properly for all that he'd done. _It was the right thing to do._

As she reached the bottom of the stairs she began to worry that he wouldn't be there- that Erik wouldn't be by the dumpster "coincidentally" taking out his trash. What if he was out? What if he wasn't? What if she had to actually knock on his door? She felt a bead of sweat form on her forehead. Wiping it away with the back of her hand she paused before his door, her heart pounding so loud she could hear it. She lost her nerve and headed with her two dangling trash bags toward the exit, rustling the plastic exaggeratedly so that everyone would be able to hear her.

It was only Lizzie there in the foyer and banging the bags together noisily, she felt like a fool.

Deflated, she pushed the door outward with her forearm and exhaled a depressed sigh.

* * *

He'd only left his front door briefly, almost having given up. With a cup of coffee in hand he returned to his dining room table, his eyes settling on the unfinished composition he'd been working on. 

That was when he heard it.

It was unmistakable and he would've recognized that glorious crackling sound anywhere. It was the exciting, comforting, welcoming sound that only plastic bags made. And that meant only one thing...

_Lizzie._

In a flash he was at his door, reaching for one of the large kitchen bags he had stowed conveniently by the door frame...just in case.

She didn't turn to look at him as he opened his door and with a big grin he approached her, large white kitchen bag and all, the yellow handles pressing the skin of his fingers tightly. Lizzie was pushing her way through the exit door and he heard her breathe a long sigh.

"It's a pleasure meeting you here again."

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this one- I'm having fun playing with these characters! As always I look forward to your feedback/ critiques/constructive criticisms so please review! 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

She'd had it for nearly thirty years. It was her most prized possession. Nell hadn't much use for trinkets or knick knacks but this she'd kept and treasured for years. Time and time again she'd wrapped it up carefully in thick layers of newspaper to keep it safe from damage from all their moving about. On the top of her dresser it stayed safe, free from harm- the delicate, fragile piece.

It was a Faberge egg. Sitting on its base it stood nearly six and a half inches tall. The exquisite oval piece was mauve with an interlacing overlay of shiny silver. Tiny crystal bows adorned the opening. Inside the elegant egg sat a swan of silver, its eyes set with crystals, atop its own aquamarine lake. The awesome details had taken her breath away; from its individually molded feathers to its lake decorated with water lilies and lily pads.

For sure the piece was quite valuable-the most expensive item she owned. But to Nell, it had been priceless.

It had been her own mother's last gift to her before she passed away. As a young girl Nell could recall gazing upon the beautiful egg for hours, admiring its graceful beauty. Her own mother had inherited it from Nell's grandmother; three generations had cherished it and kept it safe.

And now as she looked down at the damaged piece laying sadly on the floor, its crystals jarred from their settings, scattered upon the wood surface, the silver overlay scratched, the mauve porcelain shell cracked, her mouth hung open wide in disbelief. She wanted to cry and she would have if she could actually bring her mind to accept what had just happened.

Her sock drawer had needed some rearranging. It was the fourth drawer from the top and the most stubborn to pull out. After years of struggling with it, Nell was accustomed to exactly how much pressure it would to make it move. But this time, when she set out to yank the drawer out, exacting just the right amount of pull, to her surprise the drawer slid out easily. The force from yanking on it landed Nell on her behind, the drawer smacked her on her knees, socks flew through the air, and to her shock, the dresser shook so sharply that the egg fell from its beautiful pedestal, banging itself once on top of the dresser, and landing it in cruel pieces on the floor.

It felt like she was moving in slow motion as she threw the drawer off of her and reached for the damaged object with one hand, her other hand desperately grasping the tiny crystal pieces. Her eyes slowly inspected its many flaws. It was ruined, her precious birthright that was all she had left of her mother. Her heart felt as though it had broken in more pieces than the egg and she bit her lip to keep crying aloud.

A knock at her door stirred her, but she couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Ma? I have something to tell you." There was knocking again.

Nell held the frail egg in her open palm. She was at a loss for words as Lizzie burst in through the door.

"Listen, I know you're not going to like this…but," Lizzie started but stopped cold as she found her mother on her knees, holding the fractured Faberge egg with tears in her eyes. Her own heart was breaking as she took in the sadness in her mother's expression, the despair in her eyes. It wasn't just a silly heirloom. It was her treasure. Words of comfort failed her, as did any other words at all. Lizzie took a seat beside her on the floor and braced strong arms around her mother. She pulled her in close, for once offering her own strength just as her mum had done for her so many times before. She held her in silence, when finally Nell's sobs of anguish overtook them both.

* * *

Lizzie was waiting for just the right time. Distractedly she poured a glass of milk. Although, she wondered, would there ever be one? Frankie had just completed his homework, and after hours of sulking her mother had finally come out of her room. Nell had insisted she didn't want to talk or even think about the egg anymore. With puffy eyes and a bright smile, she sat down across from Frankie, quickly lighting up a cigarette and inquired about his day. 

Cheerily, she set the glass on the table and reached for some cookies as Frankie smiled up at her.

"I have something to tell the both of you," Lizzie began nervously, feeling her face flush a little.

Nell and Frankie looked up curiously at her and waited patiently for her announcement.

"There's a man who lives in the flat below. He's been very nice and caught that bloody mouse for us, and fixed some things around here…"

Lizzie was wringing her fingers nervously, her eyes darting from her son to her mother.

"And so…" she continued, her voice dropping a bit. "I've invited him here for tea tonight…to say thanks." She paused and took a breath. "There's something else. I need you to be polite and not stare."

Two pairs of questioning eyes stared at her when Lizzie realized she'd forgotten to reveal the most important detail. Her eyes fixed on the clock and stubbornly stayed there.

Clearing her throat she continued, "He wears a white mask on the right side of his face."

Finally she turned her gaze to Frankie and Nell.

Their expressions had been identical. Frankie's right hand was holding up a cookie, his mouth hung open, his expressive eyes holding a look of shock. Nell's right hand was holding a cigarette, her mouth hung open wider and her eyes were filled with horror.

Lizzie's eyebrows knit together and an unexpected wall of defense came up in front of her. She'd expected surprised reactions from them, but to her their caricature-like expressions were just plain ridiculous. Anger began to well inside her and she leaned forward before them pointing an accusing finger.

"If the wind changes, your faces will stay like that."

* * *

The very idea was wonderfully absurd. 

His first instinct was to politely decline. Sitting down with a family and eating a meal- it was so...normal. Yet normalcy was something his life had been devoid of. Even as a child he couldn't recall a time when his own mother and father had sat with him at their long dining room table and just shared a pleasant meal.

How could a man who barely considered himself to be human take part in such an ordinary activity? It seemed warm, and friendly, and oddly appealing.

His life had never been any of those things.

Then there would be no escaping his acquaintance with Frankie. That for sure would be a recipe for disaster.

However, as Lizzie looked up at him, he feared that it must've taken all the nerve that she had to invite him.

It was the vulnerable look in her eyes that caused him to reconsider. That and the magnetic pull her body seemed to exude. It didn't take long for him to realize he wanted to be near her no matter what the circumstances.

"What should I bring?" he asked finally, assuming that normal people asked that as a prelude to such invitations.

The smile of relief that shown on her face brought a ray of sunshine to his heart.

"Just bring yourself."

* * *

"I don't know what you're thinking inviting that weirdo here, Lizzie," Nell declared frantically, her arms gesturing like a madwoman. "Didn't you hear a bloody word I told you about him?!" 

Lizzie shook her head as her mother continued to follow her around the flat voicing her objections. Nervously, Lizzie rushed about, tidying up; fluffing sofa cushions, straightening the pile of tabloids on the coffee table, emptying the ashtray, and straightening some photos on the wall.

She had long since tuned out her mother, feeling the familiar fluttering in her stomach.

_He will be here any minute._

After the initial shock, Frankie had simply smiled and proceeded to clean his room. Frankie had always been easygoing and could get along with just about anyone. Lizzie knew she could count on her son to be polite and pleasant.

Her mother, however, was the one she had to worry about.

The bubbling sound of water boiling over drew her to the kitchen, her mother trailing behind her.

There were too many thoughts and feelings flooding through her. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants and shut off the burner. Second by second she was becoming more nervous with anticipation and her heart began to pound.

A gentle knock at the door caught her attention and she smiled at how even the sound of his knocking was rhythmic and beautiful.

She turned to her mother with pleading eyes. "That's him." Her eyes fixed on her mother's threateningly. "Be nice." With a quick look in the mirror, Lizzie smoothed her hair down and straightened her blouse. Before opening the door she took a breath and willed herself to be calm.

The incredible blue of his eyes was what she saw first. Her heart pounded faster as he stood before her.

* * *

Nell's eyes were hard and cold as she looked up at him. She still could not believe that her daughter had ever allowed that masked man inside their flat, and now he was coming for tea! So here he was, standing in their doorway. And to make things worse, Lizzie was smiling up at him like a silly schoolgirl. 

Lizzie gestured to Erik. "Ma, this is-"

"So," Nell interrupted, "we meet again." Her lips settled into a straight line, not bothering to hide her displeasure.

Erik straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. This was unexpected, to say the least. He had never dreamed that the crazy laundry lady might be Lizzie's mother...or anyone's mother. He blocked any violent fantasies from entering his mind. Still he was prepared to be civil if not pleasant, but the daggers her eyes were throwing were making it difficult. "So it would seem."

Glaring, Nell stood there, her arms folded on her chest and locked in place almost as though she was going to block his passage inside, not intimidated that the masked man towered over her.

Lizzie's eyes turned uneasily from one to the other. She clapped her hands together once and rubbed her palms together. "Right," she said brightly. "Come inside. The food is ready."

His gaze turned to Lizzie, softening at the sight of her lovely face. He nodded and followed her inside past the angry older woman. He ignored Nell as she walked away in a huff, muttering to herself. The inviting smell of spaghetti aroused his appetite and although they'd gotten off to a rough start he was determined to be the perfect guest.

Lizzie led him to the living room and gestured for him to sit on the sofa. "My son, Frankie is in his room. I'll get him. He's deaf but he's a champion lip reader," she told him quickly, turning towards the hallway.

Erik nodded pleasantly, opening his mouth to confide that they'd already been introduced but closed it again promptly, contemplating how to handle their introductions since he was sure Frankie had not confided their friendship.

Nell was leaving her room, laundry basket in hands, when she nearly ran head on into Lizzie.

With a puzzled expression Lizzie watched as her mother made a beeline for the front door. "Mother?!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing? It's time to eat."

"I'm going to do laundry," she replied sharply, loud enough for him to hear. Balancing the filled laundry basket on her hip she forcefully opened up the front door. "Suddenly I'm not very hungry."

Open-mouthed, Lizzie looked after her, embarrassed and upset, but before she could say anything the door slammed shut.

* * *

**A/N:** My apologies for anyone looking for this story under "Dear Frankie", I just moved it over here to POTO. Eventually, I'll move it back to the Dear Frankie category. Hope you enjoy and please review! 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Erik wasn't sure what was worse. Lizzie's mum's hasty departure had been unnerving, but hadn't troubled him nearly as much as it had his lovely hostess. At this point any type of truce between himself and the older woman seemed unlikely. Mortified and red-faced, Lizzie had been quick to explain away her mother's bad behavior. Apparently something very precious to her had been broken...

But the shocked horror in Lizzie's eyes had cut straight to his heart as deeply as any knife as she witnessed her smiling nine-and-a-half-year-old run excitedly from his room and eagerly throw himself into Erik's embrace.

"You know each other?" she asked, her eyes moving back and forth disbelievingly from her son to the masked man embracing him.

He didn't quite know what to say.

Frankie's hands signed with lightning speed, giving her the desired explanation and filling in the blanks.

In response she wore the scope of negative emotions plainly on her face and not one of them escaped Erik's observant gaze. It was all there; hurt, shock, disappointment, betrayal. And he might've preferred cutting off one of his fingers to the sudden disturbing emotion that now shadowed her face.

_Disgust._

Her arms encircled her son protectively and Erik realized that however unfounded her assumptions may be he had in fact deceived her by never having confided the truth of his and Frankie's friendship.

It was too much for him to see the revulsion in those warm chocolate brown eyes, to feel feared and threatened by her. His veins turned quickly to ice; the protective familiar feeling flowed through him, embracing and sheltering Erik, pulling him back to the security of his world; a world absent of affection or emotion.

He said nothing; she wouldn't have believed him anyway. His eyes cast downward, settling on the coffee table to a pile of gossip magazines.

Erik had always done his best to stay detached from the outside world. He did not own a television, computer, or telephone…and that was how he preferred it. He didn't need reminders…

But now as his eyes found the image on the front page of the tabloid, he felt his chest tighten. His mouth opened in a futile attempt to gasp for air that his lungs simply refused.

He barely heard Lizzie tell him to leave, her voice had fallen into the background like a faraway echo. Beyond all reason his mind spun like a furious tornado at the image. It was a face he'd hoped never to see again.

It was she.

Years had passed since he'd seen her. And he might've managed to hold on to the strangely comforting cold feeling until his scrutinizing eyes registered her flawless face, those dark eyes that reminded him of a doe, the long, dark hair, once curly now hanging straight, falling gracefully above her shoulders.

Christine was a diva in her own right, commanding starring roles in movies as well as in the theater. Apparently her fame had spread all over Europe. Indeed, as he had predicted everyone loved her.

Erik had loved her.

She had made her choice.

Draped fashionably in a designer wedding gown, Christine appeared the perfect bride. No doubt this was not her first wedding; perhaps her second or third.

It didn't make sense to Erik. She was his Christine and in the cold, dead organ he considered his heart she always would be. But as his gaze passed to the groom, some actor he'd never care to know about, posing next to the exquisite starlet with his handsome perfect face framed by a head of golden hair, holding her tiny hand in his own, Erik thought he was going to be sick.

Quickly he moved, his feet carrying him out of Lizzie's living room until he was finally back to his own flat again. _Home_…

Slamming the door shut, Erik's eyes took in his familiar surroundings and at once began to feel normal again. In the darkness he prowled like a cat to the kitchen pulling a lighter from a drawer.

He made his way to the many candles and began to light one long taper after the next, breathing in the familiar smell of the wax. His mind took that blasphemous image of the woman he had once loved and tossed it into a mental inferno. Setting the lighter down on the dining table, his long fingers grasped his unfinished composition- he'd played it in the dead of night for a different woman.

_Lizzie._

No, he wasn't ready to discard _her_ image- not yet. Tempting to his heart as it was, he would've liked to file her away in the desolate region of 'what could have been'. For now he could not bring himself to think of Lizzie any further. As if by God's will he was suddenly struck by blessed inspiration and picked up a pencil, settling himself on his trusty bench.

It had been a horrible evening and all he wanted was to forget.

Into a divine trance he fell, notes spilled onto the page, and his mind blissfully turned to his music.

* * *

Lizzie was sure she'd gone mad. 

Nervously pacing back and forth in her bedroom her mind raced, her mind argued. She could hardly suppress the horror with which she'd received Frankie's admission of their friendship. A fury like no other had brewed inside her.

At first she hadn't wanted to believe it. How on earth, she wondered, was it acceptable for a grown man to befriend her son, time after time inviting him into the confines of his flat? How could her mind accept that her son, who'd nearly lost his life once already to an abusive father, should ever be allowed to spend unsupervised time with a strange man?

No, she didn't want to believe it. She wanted to cry; all her fresh and exciting feelings for Erik had melted into a dark little pool like wax from a crayon. Her fierce maternal instinct had kicked in and had Erik refused to leave Lizzie surely would've reached the nearest knife and violently drained all the blood from his body.

Once Erik had fled, Frankie had fervently explained the circumstances of their friendship.

Erik had protected him from a bully.

It was close to midnight and now as Lizzie's slippered feet paced back and forth across the carpeted floor, she wanted to cry for her horrible overreaction. She learned that Frankie had visited with the masked man nearly a dozen times, and Erik had never behaved in an irresponsible manner.

Her fingers ran fiercely through her hair and she closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh.

_Just breathe_.

In that moment, she was sure she'd heard the piano playing. _Music. _An idea popped into her mind and she moved quickly to her CD player, switching on her favorite song. Wide-awake and standing over the portable device, she listened carefully for the conclusion of the song, waiting and wondering...

For many nights a sweet melody had taken hold of her, pulling her from her stinging reality. She'd thought she'd imagined it. But it wasn't true; she hadn't imagined the soothing lullaby that drew her into the arms of sleep, no, because as if on cue, the faint melody of the piano filled her heart and soul and at that moment Lizzie was struck by a sharp realization.

The source of the mesmerizing, tranquil music had been Erik all along.

* * *

Mechanically his fingers played the music, his heart aching. He had been tempted not to play it at all, but felt as though he'd been programmed as well as any automaton to send comfort where it was needed. In his mind he could picture her sweet face as she lay gently on her pillow, her eyelids becoming heavier with each note. Bitterly he continued to play and tried the best he could to block the onslaught of unpleasant feelings threatening to invade his peace. 

That was when he heard a soft knocking at his door.

* * *

She'd stood in front of his door for at least a minute, twisting the belt of her robe in her hands nervously. With a shake of her head she gazed down at her fuzzy slippers and resisted the temptation to go back upstairs. But before she could contemplate it further, he'd opened the door, his expression uncertain as his eyes met hers. 

He cleared his throat abruptly. "Hello," he said politely, in a tone he might've used had she been a common stranger.

Her gaze fixed on the coldness of his amazing eyes. It was with sadness that she realized that she'd been the cause- turning this honorable, kind man into a monster with her distrustful imagination. Filled with regret she berated herself for jumping to hasty conclusions, opening her mouth to speak and searching for words that seemed stuck in her throat.

"Hello, Erik," she began, her eyes meeting his pained expression, half hidden by the mask. She felt a like a little girl as she looked up at him, his presence powerful and unyielding. Nervously she began fiddling with the belt again. "I came down here to say...er..I wanted to tell you that..." she stammered, taking note that the hardness in his deep blue eyes began to soften. "Frankie...he told me everything," she continued, seeming to trip over her words. She thought that any moment she might just burst into frustrated tears. Already she was blinking to contain them, tearing her eyes away from the forgiving expression on his face and setting them downward on her fuzzy slippers. "I'm so so..."

"You don't have to say it."

His voice sounded like sweet music when he spoke the words and relief filled her entire body. His long fingers were heartbreakingly gentle as they lifted her chin to meet his gaze. The longing in his eyes gripped her like a celestial hand reaching down from the heavens. She fought the enchanting spell of his eyes and continued.

"I came here to apologize, Erik."

He dropped his hand to his side, his gaze turning downward to the floor and simply nodded. "Well then perhaps you'd better come inside," he told her, opening the door for her to enter.

Lizzie's eyes opened wide at the sight of the many lit candles. Involuntarily her face began to blush. "Is right now a bad time?" she asked, feeling a flush of hot embarrassment. If he had company, she certainly didn't want to intrude. Just the thought that he might've been entertaining another woman evoked ugly pangs of jealousy that threatened to spread through her like cancer.

A smirk appeared on his lips. "Of course not," he replied, smoothly gesturing Lizzie inside. He gathered by her uneasy expression that she may have had the wrong idea."There's no one here but us, Lizzie. I have candles lit because light has never been my friend."

"Right," she acknowledged, taking in the meaning of his words. The mask, she thought sadly, must have brought him great sadness, although Lizzie barely noticed its presence. Her eyes took in the sight before her, the shadow-filled room was the same layout as her own flat with many twinkling candles carefully arranged. It was strange to Lizzie but eerily beautiful and romantic, the tiny lights scattered about the flat, flickering like bright fireflies. It wasn't long before a few small groups of candles caught her attention. The long glowing tapers were placed elegantly around an upright piano. For a moment Lizzie tried to imagine Erik sitting at the piano, his posture perfectly straight, his musician's fingers commanding the keys with all the passion his soul possessed.

"I can turn the light on if you'd be more comfortable," he offered, quite happy to play host to his lovely neighbor for once.

She shook her head. "No, this is breathtaking, Erik. The candles are beautiful."

"I owe you an apology as well. For selfish reasons I'd been compelled to keep your son as my friend for as long as I possibly could..." he stopped and turned his eyes from hers.

"I understand why, Erik. I can't say that I'm happy about it. I don't like the idea that my son was keeping secrets from me. But I do understand why. God knows I've had my own secrets..."

"We all have our pasts, don't we?"

Lizzie nodded seriously and Erik's face broke out into a sudden smile. "May I offer you some tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

Silently he gestured for her to follow as he led her to sit at his kitchen table. Quickly he lit up a few more candles in the kitchen and reached for a kettle. Lizzie sat quietly, feeling more comfortable with her charming host and his surroundings. A sudden curiosity struck her and she was tempted to bombard him with a barrage of questions but before she could he spoke, his voice as smooth as silk.

"Now how about you tell me about what happened to that egg?"

* * *

A/N: In case anyone was wondering, the song that I imagine Erik playing for Lizzie to comfort her is from "Dear Frankie". It's a beautiful song entitled "The Kiss" which takes place of course as the title implies during the kiss between Lizzie and the stranger. (sigh) Every time I hear it, I imagine Erik at his piano... Also, I made a small change to the last paragraph at the end of chapter two, and I apologize for this. I can't explain why now, but I did it so that it won't conflict with what I have in mind for the future. Thanks to my reviewers- I love you all! Thanks for reading and as always, please review! 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

_"Listen, class, for homework this weekend your assignment is to read chapters four through eight in your science textbooks and answer the questions..."_

_The lengthy assignment evoked a collective groan from Mrs. Giry's fifth grade class._

_"...and be prepared for a quiz on the material..." She ignored the typical eye rolling of many of her pupils, and continued sternly, "...and be prepared to give your book report as well."_

_Erik sat quietly, diligently recording all of the teacher's requests on his lined notebook paper when the dreaded noise of countless whispers invaded his ears. Soon to follow were the disturbing poking of fingers prickling his back._

_"Erik," his classmates whispered desperately like shameful little beggars. "Raise your hand!"_

_An irritated sigh escaped his lips and he wished he could just make them all go away._

_"C'mon, Erik!" they persisted. "Raise your hand!"_

_He had long since tired of his classmates' laziness. Erik, for one, enjoyed learning. He soaked up every bit of information like a sponge. Judging by the insistent poking from the boy behind him, they didn't seem like they were going to let up._

_There were only two minutes left until the bell and their incessant whispering was only getting worse._

_"Raise your hand," the boy behind him hissed._

_Erik had told himself he wouldn't do this anymore._

_As if by its own accord Erik's hand shot up high in the air, waving to attract Mrs. Giry's attention._

_The strict older woman acknowledged her star pupil with a smile. "Do you have a question, Erik?"_

_Erik cleared his throat and his classmates looked on with glee, and the room fell into a reverent hush. His voice emerged in a soothing monotone and his blue eyes fixed sharply on his teacher's. "There will be no homework, Mrs. Giry- not this weekend."_

_The wide-eyed students watched with unhidden fascination, their collective heads moving back and forth from Erik to their teacher._

_It never failed._

_A glaze fell over her light brown eyes at the smooth sound of the young boy's voice and in response her body stayed perfectly still._

_"Don't you agree, Mrs. Giry?" Erik continued, his eyes holding hers steadily._

_Like a robot she nodded her head. "Of course, Erik. There will be no homework this weekend."_

_The entire class cheered, patting Erik on the back and thanking him. The bell sounded and the students excitedly gathered their belongings, filing happily out of the classroom._

_Ashamedly, Erik sat at his desk as various boys and girls continued to trickle by, expressing their appreciation._

_The first time he'd used hypnotism on his teacher it had been out of sheer curiosity. The times that followed seemed to be for acceptance..._

_Acceptance was something that had eluded Erik. He'd thought by using the power of his voice on his teacher that he might gain approval from his peers._

_Since the very first day of school, everyone could see that Erik was different. He looked every bit like an ordinary little boy but was wicked smart, often challenging his instructors on one point or another. His intelligence often times exceeded their own. Quickly his extraordinary talents and abilities isolated him from the other children._

_And now they only saw him as a freak._

_With a sigh he collected his things, his normally straight posture fell into a slump, and he resolved never to do it again._

Acceptance- it had always been about acceptance. And yet he'd thought he'd outgrown the childish yearning for it so long ago.

Erik's hand was steady as his fingers gripped the tweezers. Through his jeweler's loupe his eyes carefully scrutinized the tiny, bare settings on the Faberge egg. He'd been at this for hours, and there were still many miniscule details that needed tending. The egg was a pure work of art, and Erik could appreciate everything about it- from its delicate tiny crystal bows to the beautiful swan inside it. The cost to fix the exquisite piece would've been more than Lizzie and her mother could ever afford to pay. He had to admit that when she'd first shown it to him he'd had his doubts that it could ever be restored to its original condition. With the tweezers, he carefully placed another miniature bow in its setting. This difficult job would no doubt take him through the night.

Still he had to ask himself just whose acceptance it was he was trying to gain.

That crazy old woman...Lizzie's mother- Erik shook his head, as if to confirm that he could care less about the laundry lady's feelings. She certainly had not cared about his.

_Lizzie._

He shook his head again. Acceptance was not something that he felt he needed to gain from her. In her eyes he could see the warm glow of affection; it penetrated his mind and flowed through his body like a gentle caressing spring. Undoubtedly there was something there between them- something pure, something undeniable.

Besides, he had offered to fix it for her.

As Erik replaced the last of the tiny bows, he smiled to himself, admiring his handiwork. She would be very pleased.

The anticipation of Lizzie's smile warmed his entire body. Gingerly he set the egg down on its golden base and took a sip of tea. There was still the sizable crack and countless other details to tend to. It was going to be a very long night.

But Lizzie was worth it.

* * *

It was amazing. 

She wiped her eyes in disbelief as she gazed upon the fragile piece, sitting in all its glory on its tiny stand atop her dining room table and Lizzie reached her hands out to the egg but was afraid to touch it, moving around the valuable object, her eyes inspecting its formerly damaged exterior.

"It's...it's..." she began breathlessly, searching for the right words. Tears began to form in her eyes.

Standing nice and tall Erik stood by the table, proudly, his chest puffing out involuntarily. The egg was beautiful, certainly, but his eyes stayed fixed on the woman before him. She was mesmerizing, and as he watched her round the object appreciatively, a strange, unfamiliar feeling filled his very being.

_Happiness._

"It's so..." she continued, her eyes turned from the egg to the enticing blue of his eyes. "Incredible," she finished. "It looks even better than before."

He cleared his throat. "I polished it."

She nodded, noticing how brightly the silver overlay shined, the crystals sparkled, and the rich mauve color appeared more vibrant.

"Thank you."

Erik smiled proudly, his eyes lit up with an appreciative glint. "It was my pleasure."

"My mother will be so happy, Erik, you have no idea-"

His finger wagged and he shook his head. "I didn't do this for her, Lizzie. I did it for you."

Her smile sent a shower of euphoria, and suddenly he felt bathed in the intoxication of her presence. Though it had been a tremendous challenge, having taken hours of intricate, painstaking labor, Erik found it all worth it just with the single curve of her lips.

"Still, I wish I didn't have to leave for work, just so I could see the look on her face," Lizzie told him.

She followed as he silently headed towards the front door.

He wished she didn't have to leave either as he watched her arrange her hair into a ponytail and pull the rubber band from her wrist, wrapping it around tightly. He wondered how it would feel to run his fingers through the soft strands of her hair. Instead his hand hesitantly reached for the doorknob.

"I just can't thank you enough, Erik." Overcome by gratitude Lizzie couldn't help throwing herself into his arms.

It was unexpected and delightful, and for Erik it was absolute bliss holding Lizzie in his arms. He could smell the fragrant lilac scent; wafting from her hair and satiating his nostrils with its wholesome redolence. It filled him up and made his incomplete soul whole again. His eyes closed as he breathed her in, allowing his other senses to absorb her very essence.

Of course Lizzie had never meant to throw herself at him, but now that she was locked securely in his strong embrace she was certain she didn't want to part. She'd never been this close to him before except in her dreams, and now the reality of his hands resting tightly on her back sent delightful tingles that played about her body. Every sense was heightened, her sense of smell absorbing the musky scent of his cologne, her eyes examining every last detail on his face. His brilliant eyes were closed and Lizzie realized for the first time how it was difficult to discern where the skin ended and the mask began. She also hadn't noticed before the faint creases that branched out just below the edge of the mask.

Her gaze turned to the sensuality of his lips. She couldn't help wondering if they would feel as soft as in her dreams, if just the slightest touch might send her into seventh heaven. It seemed like forever as her gaze held steady there, wanting, hoping, mentally reaching out to him, willing Erik to become one with her.

She nearly stopped breathing as his eyes slowly opened. She was struck by their brilliant cerulean color. They begged her and commanded her all at once. Lizzie felt a powerful magnetic force pulling her closer towards him and her chin tilted slightly upward, as if it were an invitation...

Caught up in the paradise of Lizzie's eyes, of her sweet face gazing upon him with such longing he realized he couldn't help it. Erik leaned down towards Lizzie, forgiving himself for all the lost years, having condemned himself to a life of solitude, believing that no woman could ever care for him. For once he would allow his soul to be free from the torturous chains that bound his heart for so long. Yes, Erik was going to allow himself to feel human this time; that this strong, amazing woman before him had finally seen past the mask, that she was there before him yearning for his kiss, longing for his heart, waiting for him...

His hands strayed from her back, coming gently to rest onto the smooth skin of her cheeks. With a guarded breath he drew her face gently upward, leaning his own face downward, slowly, carefully, so that there was no room for misunderstanding. He doubted that once he was enveloped within her kiss that he would be able to quickly part. His eyes searched the rich brown color of her eyes, seeking permission, until within them he saw the desire that waited there. Erik knew he had his answer.

Their faces were barely an inch apart, and she drew a breath in anticipation, shutting her eyes, hoping that his lips would be as gentle as they had been in her dreams. He seemed to linger, uncertainly, as though he wasn't sure.

"Erik?" Lizzie breathed. It wasn't a question. It was a request and Lizzie moved her face closer to his, closing the gap, their lips so close they could feel each other's breath.

The disturbing sound of a key in the doorknob forced them apart, Lizzie taking three steps backwards. Erik could've screamed at that very moment as Lizzie's mother's accusing brown eyes met his.

"What have we here?" she asked with brows furrowed, grocery bags in hand, her eyes darting back and forth from Lizzie to Erik.

Smoothing back her hair, and tightening her ponytail, Lizzie tried to contain her blush. "I was just leaving for work."

"I'm leaving as well," Erik muttered, his mind conjuring a fantasy of pushing the older woman down the staircase. He could even picture the various grocery items spilling onto the cold, hard tile floor at the bottom of the stairs. It was unnerving that for all his talent with magic and illusion that he was bound by earthly limitations. No matter how much he wanted he couldn't make the troublesome woman disappear.

Nell held the door open for him, gesturing with her grocery-bag filled hand for him to leave. "Well, I guess we'll have to say cheerio then. Right, Lizzie?"

Lizzie sighed at her mother's rude behavior, and took a quick glance at her watch. "Bye, Erik, and thank you again."

He simply smiled to Lizzie, his blue eyes warm and appealing. "You're welcome." He turned a cold gaze back to Nell. "Good day, Madame."

Quickly Nell turned her back to him and shut the door behind her. "What?" she asked at her daughter's incredulous expression. "Don't you have to leave too?"

Hastily Lizzie reached her purse from the coffee table, hanging it on her shoulder. She hated the way her mother still had the ability to make her feel six years old. Seething, she made her way towards the front door and faced her mother. "You know, Mother, you're going to regret being so mean to Erik."

"I doubt it, Lizzie. But just out of curiosity, why is that?" she asked offhandedly, heading towards the kitchen.

Reaching for the doorknob, Lizzie shouted out, "Erik left you a surprise on the kitchen table."

With a raised eyebrow she turned to face her daughter, hearing the sharp sound of the door slamming shut. She shrugged her shoulders and moved to set the grocery bags on the table. That was when she saw the surprise to which Lizzie had been referring. Her mouth fell wide open. The grocery bags fell from her fingers and her hand clamped over her gaping mouth.

A lump that seemed as big as a golf ball formed in her throat and her eyes began to fill with tears.

* * *

A/N: I must give a huge thanks to my beta, Grannydaisytoo, for all of her wonderful help since chapter 5 assisting me with awkward phrasing and grammar usage and input in general. Big hugs and kisses to you! 

Please review! Thanks as always to those who have left feedback. I appreciate it so much!


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: This installment is very short- I'd call it more of a mini chapter. Hope you enjoy and don't forget to review!

Chapter 11

The laundry room was dark as Erik peered in through the window from outside. A smile curved at his lips and he felt some relief that he would be able to wash his clothes in peace… or so he had hoped. Under one arm he held his small laundry basket, and with his other hand reached for the doorknob. As the door opened, to his chagrin he heard the upsetting sound of a washer running through its cycle.

He let out a long, annoyed sigh. Some tenants were careless with their clothing, leaving the machines unattended, and to their unhappy surprise came back to find that some of their laundry had gone missing. He entered the room and quickly turned the small lock on the door. Just this once, he didn't want to be disturbed.

But as he turned to set his basket down on top of the closest washer, he nearly started as he caught a glimpse of a figure in the shadows.

He wasn't alone.

_No, it couldn't be_, he thought, hoping that his cat-like vision was deceiving him. It didn't make any sense at all. Why was _she_ here all alone and doing laundry in the dark?

Erik reached a long, slender finger to the light switch and flipped it on.

Light angrily flooded the laundry room and she didn't seem to be surprised to see him. It occurred to him suddenly that she might have been expecting him. With a nod she acknowledged him, and to Erik she appeared not to show any of the attitude that she'd presented earlier.

Nell cleared her throat. "So we meet again."

Confused, Erik decided not to reply with his customary snide remark. "Why are you doing laundry alone in the dark?"

The older woman silently struggled to keep her face expressionless. She pulled back her shoulders proudly and brushed past him to shut the light back off. For once she really appreciated the comfort of the darkness as it filled the room and made her way back to her washing machine.

With furrowed brows, Erik watched the woman. She was obviously becoming more accustomed to the lack of light, pulling a scented sheet from her box of fabric softener. His sensitive sense of smell did not detect even a trace of cigarettes. He swore that if he lived to be a thousand years old he was sure he'd never understand women…and certainly not this one. Quietly, he pulled some coins from his pocket and slipped them into the coin slot.

Minutes of silence seemed to pass, and Erik couldn't help occasionally glancing back towards her. She never made eye contact, and she wore a rather solemn expression on her face.

"It doesn't have to be _this_ quiet," Erik said finally, turning to her. He didn't understand why, but he seemed to prefer the woman's biting remarks to her uneasy silence. It bothered him having her standing four feet from him, so disturbingly quiet…so impossibly passive. He figured at some point he was going to have to make peace with her if he was ever going to pursue anything with her daughter. "Alright, I know you don't approve of me, or like me," he paused, as she only watched him in silence. "Not many people do, but…"

Nell interrupted, "Can I just say one thing?"

The softness in her voice disarmed him, but he still felt that they were going to have it out right then and there.

"Of course."

She was quiet for a long moment, and inched her way towards him, almost hesitantly. Nell let out a long sigh and looked him square in the eye, grateful once more for the room's dimness that shadowed her humbled face. "My name is Nell."

And to Erik's utter shock, the older woman held out her hand to him.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Nell couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive about the masked man. Though he had repaired her egg and she'd been grateful for it, she still wasn't completely sold on him; there was something about him, something inherent, something dangerous that caused red flags to fly up before her. She might have attributed these feelings to previous laundry incidents, but it was something else, and she just couldn't put her finger on it.

Still he obviously had won Lizzie over, with his endless repairs around the flat, and his general charm. That in itself seemed a miraculous feat to Nell, who'd thought that after the stranger left town, her daughter might've given up on men altogether. Lizzie had told her as much before.

Then there was Frankie...There was something very special about the bond that her downstairs neighbor shared with her grandson. Their easy communication gave the feeling that they'd always known each other. Clearly, Frankie cared for the man, spending as much time with Erik as possible.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't let go of her doubts about Erik. To Nell, there seemed to be too much mystery surrounding him; too many questions eating away at her. Somehow, she couldn't quell the natural distrust that lingered within her. There was a way, though, and as Nell made her way downstairs with list in hand, she was certain she was going to find out.

She straightened, curling her list in her hand and knocked firmly on his door. A moment later Erik appeared with a pleasant smile.

"We meet again," he greeted, with none of the previous hostility. Once they'd made their peace, he'd found their relationship comfortable and polite. However, Erik could detect that this woman still didn't trust him, so for the time being, it was as satisfactory an arrangement as possible. He neither expected nor hoped for more.

"Right, will you let Frankie know he has to do his homework?" Nell asked with a feigned smile.

"Absolutely," he replied, ready to shut the door to deliver the news to the young boy.

Her hand pressed up against the door before he could close it and she cleared her throat. "After Frankie's gone, I want to speak to you."

His first instinct was to slam the door shut in her face, but he had to remind himself that she was no longer the crazy lady from the laundry room. Here before him was the mother of a woman he'd grown to care for a great deal, and as he set curious eyes on hers, he could see that this was no easy task for her either.

"Of course."

Nell's eyes met the furnishings in Erik's flat with fascination. Once Frankie had left, Erik had flipped on the light for her, gesturing her inside with a gentlemanly bow. As the warm daylight flooded the interior she was taken aback by the quantity of candles. His beautiful antique furnishings prompted yet more questions. Her mouth fell open when she was greeted by the sight of the piano; it seemed to call to her like a long forgotten friend.

"Do you play?" he asked, recognizing the invisible pull the instrument projected.

She seemed to be caught in a spell, her arms inadvertently reaching out to the piano, and her feet carried her to its glossy ivory keys. For a moment she just stood there before finally looking up at him.

"Do you play?" he repeated softly.

Absently, she shook her head. "No...I mean, I used to but, not since I was a little girl." Her gaze fell back to the shiny black upright.

Erik held out an open palm, gesturing to the piano. "Be my guest."

Her right hand moved forward, but stiffened at the crackling noise from the sheet of paper within her grasp. The rustling sound seemed to bring her back to earth, her brow furrowing once again. She held up the list on her hand, determined to stay focused. "I have some questions for you."

His cerulean gaze turned to the crumpled note that threatened his peace and he breathed a depressed sigh. "Tea?"

"Thank you," she replied stiffly, following Erik to his kitchen. She had to remind herself that she'd come here for answers and not to gawk at the masked man's possessions. She stopped short, though when a shiny silver container sparkled her reflection. "Is that...?" she gasped. "Is that a bloody samovar?"

He was impressed. Samovars were hardly common, and Nell's unhidden admiration pleased him. With a smirk, he nodded his head, and pulled the warm teapot from the top of the samovar.

In a flash she was before the metal container. "I don't believe it. My great grandmother had one and I haven't seen one since..." she trailed off, her eyes still admiring the relic, "well, I mean I've never seen an electric one before."

Nell eagerly accepted Erik's offer of a teacup, and allowed him to pour the thick, strong tea inside. "As a matter of fact this one is over one hundred years old; I converted it to electricity so that it could be used indoors."

Gingerly Nell lifted the small valve on the samovar, releasing the steaming water into her tea. So thrilled was she with this novel experience that she might've been having tea with the queen, and in spite of herself she just couldn't contain her delight. Like a true gentleman he carried the steaming hot cup to the table and pulled out a chair for her to sit.

"Now then, do you take sugar, honey, or...?"

Nell cut in, "Do you have any vodka?"

With a raised eyebrow, he reached the bottle from a cupboard and set it on the table. "You have some questions, then?'

"Aye, several in fact," Nell replied, snapping back to her no nonsense expression.

He proceeded to fill his own cup and add the boiling water. "Well you may proceed with your inquiries, but please be advised that I am adverse to answering any questions regarding my face."

With a frown, Nell nodded her reply, waiting patiently for her host to take his seat across from her. "Right. Fair enough." As curious as she had been about it, strangely it now wasn't what was first and foremost on her mind. She shot a quick glance at her list. At the very top, her number one question had been:

1. Why does he wear the bloody mask?

Her eyes skipped to number two. "Are you married?"

His right eyebrow raised above the mask. "I should think that answer quite obvious."

Unshaken by his response she continued steadily, "A simple yes or no will do."

"No, I am not nor have I ever been married."

"Right. Well, is it safe to say you have no children?"

"It is safe to say that."

"What are your intentions toward my daughter and grandson?"

Erik's gaze fell to his tea, and he spooned some honey into his cup. "I don't know how to answer that, Madam."

"Nell," she corrected.

"Right. Nell. I care very much for Lizzie and Frankie. I don't know what the future holds. I tend to think that would be more up to Lizzie."

_Good answer_. Nell nodded and opened her mouth to ask the next question when he interrupted.

"Believe me when I tell you this, Nell. I would kill anyone who brought harm to either of them."

Nell watched as his searing blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her skull. "You know, Erik, I believe you would." A smile crossed her lips as she blew the steam from her tea before taking a small sip. She made a small grimace and reached for the vodka bottle as she proceeded to the next question. Her eyes met her list with a quick glance. "Is there a history of insanity in your family?" she asked deadpan, pouring some more vodka into her tea.

His jaw tightened. He'd already decided that he would be honest no matter what the outcome. "Both sides, I'm afraid."

She'd taken a big gulp from her tea and the alcohol mixed with the tea seemed to burn as it slid down her throat. _Too much vodka_. "Right," she laughed. "You're a bloody comedian!" She took another sip, smiling approvingly at the taste.

"Would you like some more tea with your vodka?"

Stifling the urge to giggle, she continued, "Next question." He gave her an approving nod. "What ya got on under that mask?"

"Next question."

"Right. Lizzie said you have no family here in Glasgow. What brought you here?"

Erik shook his head, with a dismissive wave of his hand. "It's a long story."

Her hand reached for the half empty bottle of vodka and added some more to her tea. "I have time."

_Two cups of tea later._..

Nell added more vodka to her tea and stirred it with her spoon, watching the small whirlpool that formed around it. Quietly she continued to listen to Erik's lengthy explanation.

"It took three years to become the top architect for that firm. But," he paused, leaning in and lowering his voice, "it was only a cover up. You are _never_ to speak of this, " he warned.

With a serious expression, she nodded, and set her spoon down. She raised her teacup and took a healthy sip.

"I was an agent for the SIS..."

Her tea came out through her nose as she laughed out loud, stinging her nostrils, and leaving spots of the liquid all over Erik's cherry dining table.

He didn't know if he was more annoyed by her uncouth outburst, or if it was the fact that she didn't believe him. Irritated, his eyebrows knitted together at her impertinence. At the opera house he had killed for less. He tried to imagine what her reaction would be had he confessed to his time in Paris. _Those were the days... _His mouth hung open in disbelief.

Coughing overtook her laughter and she pounded her chest with her fist. Her hand moved quickly to wipe up the mess with a cloth napkin. When she could finally speak, her lips kept falling back to a smile. "So you are-"

He cut in, "Were..."

"Were an agent for the British Secret Service?" Laughter took over again, and she wasn't sure if it was due to the tea or Erik's outrageous admission. She shook her head, amazed at how he sat across from her with a completely straight face. "You are good. I haven't laughed this much in years!"

"I assure you, I was on an undercover mission to apprehend..."

Her laugh faded into a loud snort. "Of course you were, Mr. Bond. Now I think that working for the architectural firm in Italy was enough." Her eyes wandered the kitchen and living area. "It would certainly explain the furnishings, but now I just think you're going too far with this secret service business. Why don't you work as an architect now?"

He breathed a frustrated sigh. "I had to change my identity. I wanted out of the SIS and there was no way out. So I was forced to move about, assuming different personas. I certainly couldn't stay in architecture- it would be too easy to find me..."

"Let me guess, double o seven, the SIS threatened to remove your bloody mask?!"

Erik shook his head in attempt to reason with the woman. "No, and my name wasn't-" he stopped then, as Nell continued to laugh hysterically at her own joke.

He sat there as the woman, giddy with laughter continued, chortling in between breaths. A deep sigh overtook him and he waved his hand in defeat. "Oh, forget it."

* * *

As Lizzie hung her purse on her chair, she was sure she heard music. It suddenly occurred to her that her mother wasn't sitting in her customary spot on the sofa. Curiously, she headed to Frankie's room. She found him lying in bed, reading a book. After she tapped on the binding to get his attention, the young boy's eyes met hers. "Where is Nana?" she asked and signed. 

Frankie pointed downward with his index finger.

With a puzzled frown, Lizzie listened for the music again. Her feet rushed to her room, where she had always been able to hear the music the clearest.

Lizzie's mouth fell open and she laughed as the faint sound of the famous little waltz filled her ears. "That can't be." With her feet glued to the floor, she continued to listen to the unmistakable song that her mother couldn't resist playing anytime she'd been near a piano. Only this time it wasn't just her playing.

It was Chopsticks.

* * *

A/N: Please forgive my liberty-taking with this modern-day Erik. It is no easy task! Parts of his past will be revealed eventually... A million thanks to my wonderful beta, for her ideas and insight.

Constructive criticism and feedback are always welcome. Hang in there with me and please review!


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Marie looked up in surprise as Lizzie rushed into the auditorium. Her boots tapped along to the beat as the music blared throughout the large room. With a smile she waved Lizzie over to her table.

"Hellooo," Marie greeted, sipping from her beer glass as Lizzie approached, nearly out of breath. "Fancy seeing you here."

Lizzie gave an involuntary shudder as her eyes scoped the surroundings of the large auditorium. Before she'd set foot inside she hadn't anticipated the bitter rush of memories to wash over her like a large, salty swell. The familiar music from the DJ filled the room and it was only a moment before Lizzie's eyes fell to the vacant dance floor where she'd once shared a memorable dance with the stranger. She blinked her eyes quickly, as if to mentally snap herself out of the dangerous memory.

"Right," Lizzie replied finally. "Erik invited me to…"

"Hear him play?"

She smiled at Marie's choice of words. "Right. Hear him play." Apparently Erik had earned the reputation of being a fussy musician, insisting that he never be seen. Her gaze curiously moved towards the stage as Ally and the members of the band set up. The piano, as she'd suspected was facing opposite the audience. Shiny and black, the upright perfectly concealed its player and a long microphone hung from above. Still Lizzie had hoped that since Erik had invited her that he would make an appearance.

"So the phantom himself requested your presence?" Marie asked, impressed, taking another sip of her beer.

Lizzie's mouth fell open in defense. "Come on, Marie. He's no phantom."

"The man will not let himself be seen. It's very mysterious."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Marie, that's not true. Lots of people have seen him," she insisted, holding up her hand and counting on her fingers. "There's Frankie, Cindy, my mother…"

A smirk crossed Marie's lips as Lizzie struggled for more names, proving her own point.

With a satisfied nod, Marie still humored her friend. "Uh huh…"

"You've seen him," Lizzie stated, pointing to Marie.

"Because of Ally, I've seen him once," Marie admitted, holding up one finger, "Briefly," she added, finishing the last of the contents of her drink. "If not for Ally, I would never have seen the man at all." Her eyes turned towards the bar. "Do you want a drink?"

A laugh escaped her lips. "Do you really think that's a good idea, Marie? Remember the last time we drank together?"

Marie shot up from the chair. "Still," she replied dismissively. "I'm buying and all you have to do is sit and enjoy yourself. He's quite talented- your phantom friend."

Lizzie's eyes stayed fixed on the upright piano, watching carefully for her masked neighbor, trying to detect any movement from behind the large instrument. "His name is Erik," she corrected, muttering to herself as Marie made her way to the bar. She shook her head at Marie's silly phantom comment. Suddenly she couldn't help feeling that poor Erik must've been very misunderstood. He wore a mask, but she didn't know why, and up until that point she hadn't really cared.

With a glass of beer in each hand, Marie rejoined Lizzie. They watched as Ally introduced the band, which began its first number. They started with a few pop hits, and then accepted some requests. The audience was lively and in good spirits and as the night wore on, Lizzie found that she was really enjoying herself. The last time she'd watched this band play she'd been very distracted…

Ally's voice captured everyone's attention. "Lizzie, are you out there?" he asked, his hand over his brow searching for her among the throngs of people.

In shock she just sat there open-mouthed, wondering why he'd singled her out. Marie enthusiastically raised her hand, pointing to Lizzie.

"There you are," he spoke again with a smile, looking in her direction. "This one's for you, love."

Puzzled, the two women looked at each other, and Marie shrugged her shoulders. Ally hadn't informed her that Lizzie would be attending nor of the little surprise they had planned.

Lizzie's heart was pounding in anticipation as she watched. A few more musicians with various instruments had joined the band up on stage.

The song began with the soft strumming of the guitar. She was sure the next instrument she heard had been the sweet sound of the violin, although Lizzie didn't see a violinist up on stage. The instrumental piece proceeded with a mesmerizing melody of winds, and a soft pounding of the drums, but when the piano played it was as though the music itself was drifting outward like a small invisible haze. It reached out to her with its harmony, winding itself around her body, enveloping her in its resonance; it filled her with its beauty, claiming her soul, lifting her spirit with its hypnotic reverberation...

…and Lizzie was lost in its magnificence.

_Surrounded by candles, a swirling mist settled upon them. A vase of crimson roses sat atop the surface of the glossy piano._

_A spray of white heather hung just above Lizzie's right ear, and her silky brown locks fell into curls just below her shoulders._

_A long white dress hung from her body, its sweeping hem playing about her ankles. Tiny beads adorned the trim of the bodice, and its silky fabric brushed against her skin as she moved towards the shiny grand instrument._

_The black tails of his tuxedo hung from the piano bench as his fingers moved gracefully over the keys. With his back perfectly straight, he commanded the keys with skillful hands. A smile played about his lips as the soft music wafted through the air and he himself was lost in its seductive melody._

"_Say you'll always play for me, Erik," Lizzie requested softly, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder as she stood beside him next to the bench._

_He smiled as his fingers freed themselves from the keys and removed a single rose from the large vase. Erik held the long-stemmed bloom in his hand, offering it to her._

_As she accepted the flower he took her hand in his and brushed a gentle kiss on her knuckles._

_His blue eyes held hers as he spoke, his voice like music. "I will."_

_Lizzie smiled as she fingered the smooth satin of the black ribbon tied around the stem of the delicate flower and her heart was filled with joy._

_Erik took her other hand in his, squeezing it gently. "For as long as we both shall live."_

"Lizzie…yoo hoo…"

Blinking, Lizzie focused on the fingers snapping and waving in front of her face, pulling herself from her savory daydream.

"Earth to Lizzie…" Marie continued until the woman's eyes finally met hers.

"What?"

Giggling, Marie sounded just like a teenager. "The song ended a minute ago, and when I looked over, you seemed to be off in your own little world."

It was a beautiful fantasy that Lizzie wished she hadn't been swept from so quickly. "Sorry," she said, trying to hold on to the blissful feeling. In fact, she wasn't sorry at all. In her mind's eye she could still picture how alarmingly handsome Erik had looked in his tuxedo…

Marie's hand waved in front of her friend's face once more and she smiled when suddenly Lizzie's gaze met hers with a disturbed frown.

"Concert for one?" Marie asked.

Lizzie offered no reply as the band played another song, this time an upbeat tune; one that Lizzie had never heard before. Her gaze turned to the piano again, searching for any trace of the masked musician, hoping that she might even be able to catch a glimpse of the top of his head. For a moment she wondered if he had gone until the reassuring sound of the piano swept through the auditorium like a breeze on a hot summer day.

Filled with relief, she sat back in her chair, lifting the glass of beer to her lips until she felt the heavy weight of Marie's stare. A blush threatened her cheeks as Marie gave her a knowing smile.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Her blue eyes glittered playfully as she looked at her friend. "Something is definitely going on with you and Erik."

Setting her glass down sharply Lizzie shook her head. "He is just a friend, Marie. I've already told you that."

Marie polished off the rest of the golden liquid. "Right. That's why you've got stars in your eyes."

* * *

A/N: Feedback is always appreciated, so please review! 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

As usual, he was the first of the band members to leave, using the back exit, and the hope that Lizzie may have stayed lingered in his brain like a burning torch. It was too much to ask for, it being such a late hour; he knew Lizzie had to work in the morning, but still, his heart was in his throat as he anticipated the possibility that she may be on the other side of the door. Pushing it open and finding her there brought a wave of happiness that washed over his entire body.

"There you are!" Marie exclaimed. "Lizzie's been waiting for you," she informed him with an infectious grin and a wink.

Lizzie could feel her cheeks flush and elbowed Marie. Her eyes opened wide in embarrassment. "Marie!" she exclaimed through her teeth.

Quickly Erik fixed his eyes on Lizzie, suddenly disturbed that she had been waiting outside for him in the cold, huddling up against her friend for warmth with her cheeks pink from the chill. With one smooth agile motion, his arms had removed his long black overcoat.

"May I?" he offered, holding up the large wool garment.

With an eager nod, Lizzie responded, "Yes, thank you." Lizzie's eyes met Marie's, who after five drinks was very impressed with Erik's noble gesture.

Marie's blue eyes lit up as she watched the masked man drape his coat over Lizzie's shoulders with great care. She found herself caught up in the chemistry between the two. It may have been the way that Lizzie's eyes shined up at him as he performed the simple task of covering her, or the electricity that hung in the cool, night air as his gloved hand grazed the skin of Lizzie's neck.

Even in the dim lighting of the exit door, Marie could see it plain as day. Her friend was in denial about Erik. There was definitely something between them. Whatever it was, Marie hoped that she would find out very soon.

There was an awkward silence as Marie looked at Lizzie and Erik, who appeared very much like a couple to her with his tall frame standing behind Lizzie, his hand resting almost possessively on her shoulder when Marie finally made her excuse to go in and help the band clean up.

"Good night, Lizzie. Good night, Erik," she told them as they began to walk away, holding open the back door to the auditorium. Marie couldn't help herself from calling Lizzie back to her, motioning with her hand to come.

Lizzie gave Erik an apologetic look as she made her way to her friend standing in the doorway, wondering what on earth Marie wanted to tell her that couldn't wait until tomorrow at the chip shop.

The familiar smell of beer penetrated Lizzie's nostrils as Marie spoke.

"Lizzie," Marie said in an exaggerated whisper, each word getting louder as she spoke. "I just wanted to tell you to have fun with your phantom boyfriend."

Lizzie's eyes fell closed in humiliation, and she swiftly turned from her friend. She opened her eyes, settling them on the direction of the sidewalk, praying that Erik hadn't heard her intoxicated friend. "Good night, Marie." Her legs moved her rapidly toward Erik; he stood perfectly still, his brows furrowed in curiosity. Without thinking, she laced her arm through his to direct them forward, her feet moving quickly in an attempt to put as great a distance between them and Marie as possible.

"What did she say?" he asked, both surprised and pleased at the same time. His keen sense of hearing had picked up every word.

"She…she," Lizzie stammered, avoiding his gaze. She had no intention of repeating Marie's words. "She said that she's had a lot of fun and hopes that we can do it again."

A smirk formed on his lips at Lizzie's little white lie. He didn't dare embarrass her by pressing the issue.

She needed to change the subject…quickly.

"You played beautifully tonight, Erik," she told him, her hand unconsciously gripping tighter around his arm.

In his lifetime, he'd been complimented many times for his great talent, but when Lizzie had spoken the words, her arm curled tightly around his own, he'd truly felt the honor of her praise. Hearing the admiration in her voice meant more to him than heaven and earth, and his heart swelled with pride.

Erik didn't need his coat to shield him from the bitter cold; Lizzie's presence enfolded him with warmth like a thick, fuzzy blanket.

As his eyes met hers, Lizzie shuddered from his powerful gaze. There was something about the way he looked at her; those cerulean eyes shot through her defenses like cupid's arrow. Her walls had tumbled down and left her feeling oddly vulnerable, almost as though she were standing naked before him. It was a feeling of both fear and freedom. She shivered with release from her burdensome barriers.

Erik frowned down at her, stopping and pulling her closer. "Forgive me, Lizzie. Would you like for me to get us a cab?"

Lizzie wouldn't dream of it. She shook her head and continued walking, urging them onward. Their flat was less than a mile away and Lizzie savored the thought of being close to him, enjoying the coziness of nestling her head into his shoulder. If it had been ten miles, she would've been content just to stay enveloped in the security of his grasp.

He'd made the suggestion for the cab for her comfort but right now he was loath to lose the elation of having her beside him.

"The song you played for me," she continued, "was amazing. It's like a desperate part of me was locked inside my mind, like a prisoner, and your music… the piano… the song entered my body and set it free. I never knew that music could make me feel like that. I understand now what Frankie was trying to describe. I've never experienced music like that."

His hand slid gently over her arm like a lover's caress and he smiled with satisfaction.

"Is there any other way to experience music?"

A laugh escaped her lips as she looked wondrously up at him. "I've never known anyone like you, Erik."

"And you never will," he added jokingly, enjoying the ease of their conversation as they strode from block to block.

She stopped him all of a sudden, her eyes curious as she looked at him. "I can't explain the feelings I have for you, Erik. I care for you, but I don't really know you or anything about you. Ma keeps going on about this James Bond thing, that you worked for the bloody SIS..." she laughed.

His jaw clenched. "I told her not to speak of that."

Lizzie's expression turned serious. "See that's what I mean. I don't know you, you're still a stranger to me."

He nodded sadly. The statement sounded like it could very well be the beginning or the end. "I care for you too, Lizzie," he told her seriously, running gloved fingers through her hair. His eyes held a thousand years of grief that he'd hoped to keep buried within the dark tomb of his soul. "I don't wish to be a stranger."

"I have so many questions."

He felt the relief from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. "As do I."

Lizzie reached for his hand, and they started forward again, the sound of their steps echoing lightly in the vacant street. "You go first."

"Where is Frankie's father?" he asked.

"He's dead. He passed away just recently."

She'd said the words with such ease, and an odd feeling struck him by her indifference. "So you're a widow?"

"I suppose I am. I haven't really thought of it that way. I was his wife in name only for the last nine years."

"Oh. What happened…?"

"My turn," Lizzie cut in uncomfortably, unwilling to discuss the pain and grief that Davey had caused. She'd already revealed too much to another man once, a stranger, whose sympathy rocked her to her core. _And now he was gone…_

With a nod, Erik agreed. He was certainly not going to badger her for answers she was not ready to give. "Your turn," he agreed softly.

"I'm not sure really where to start…"

He was deathly silent as he anticipated the dreaded question.

"Why do you wear a mask?"

To Lizzie, the pain she saw in his eyes felt like a wrenching grip that took hold of her heart. Immediately she regretted asking.

His pace halted, and he faced Lizzie, setting his hand on her cheek. His mouth opened but then closed again as his mind struggled with the horror of the explanation. His eyes shut and he breathed a long sigh.

"You don't have to tell me."

Erik's gaze fixed on the understanding revealed in her expressive brown eyes. It had been a loaded question, but they all would be. There wouldn't be any simple questions that would simply lead to simple answers. "I will tell you one day, Lizzie, but not tonight."

Nodding, her hand covered his hand tenderly squeezing it against her cheek.

"This has been a wonderful night, Lizzie and I don't dare spoil it. Please just tell me that we will have more wonderful nights like this."

Her heart leapt and her eyes filled with tears. "We will have more nights like this," she promised.

* * *

"And then what happened?" Cindy asked. Her light blue eyes were shiny as though she herself were a part of Lizzie's experience. With her blond ponytail set high on her head and her dreamy expression, she looked more like a lovesick teenager than a twenty-two year old woman.

Lizzie looked up at Marie and Cindy, whose eyes were fixed on her attentively, hanging onto her every word. "And then we walked home."

Marie's mouth fell open. "Come on, Lizzie, what else did you two talk about?"

It was one of those rare, quiet moments in the chip shop where the ladies were able to enjoy each other's company. Marie and Cindy both leaned their elbows on the counter as Lizzie swept the floor, relaying the events of the night before.

"Yes, Lizzie, give us more!" Cindy chimed in.

"We talked about Frankie and my job. Also, our likes and dislikes, our hobbies- he has so many! The man has so many talents! Did you know that he knows more sign language than I do?" Lizzie gushed, as Marie and Cindy threw a look at each other with smiling faces. "Did you know that his father began teaching him to do magic when he was five years old? And that he's been playing the piano since he was three?"

Disinterested, Cindy cleared her throat. "So did your boyfriend kiss you?" she asked firmly, wanting to get to the bottom of it, and as an afterthought she turned to Marie. "I'll bet he's a great kisser."

Lizzie's eyebrows knit into a tight furrow. As much as that title may have appealed to her, she knew she couldn't lay claim to it. She couldn't help it; as these women taunted her Lizzie was beginning to become resentful with their prying. "He's not my boyfriend!" she insisted. "I've told you both already. And I hardly know him."

"Well I don't know the phantom at all, but I wouldn't mind giving him a great big snog on those luscious lips of his," Cindy told her, her eyebrows moving up and down playfully.

"He does have nice lips, doesn't he?" Marie added and Cindy nodded enthusiastically.

"Would the pair of you stop? He's not a phantom and he's not my boyfriend! For the last time, his name is Erik!" She'd practically shouted it out loud, her voice filling the shop.

Marie and Cindy stared at Lizzie with wide eyes and then simultaneously broke out into girlish giggles.

"What's so funny?" Lizzie demanded, puzzled by the ladies' laughter.

"You didn't answer our question," Marie replied.

"Did…he…kiss…you?" Cindy asked slowly.

"He…well, er…" Lizzie stammered, careful about what to reveal. Her fingers tightened around her broom. "We keep getting interrupted."

"Ah ha!" Marie shouted, startling Lizzie. "So the phantom is your boyfriend!"

Lizzie's cheeks had turned several shades of red as Cindy and Marie continued with their teasing until she just couldn't take it anymore. "He is not my bloody phantom!"

The two ladies were silent for all of two seconds before they burst into senseless giggles.

* * *

A/N: More of Erik's past will be revealed in future chapters. Hang in there with me...and please review! 


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** Wow! I really didn't think this story would make it to chapter 15! Anyhow, again, I wanted to thank everyone for reading, and to my awesome beta, and to all the kind reviewers- you've really inspired me to keep going! As always, I love hearing from you, so please review :)

**Chapter 15**

"_Where did Marie find you?"_

"_I thought we agreed, no history," the stranger replied softly._

_That had been the deal, of course. It was what Lizzie had wanted. No past, no present, no future. Still__ something within her couldn't just let him fade away like yesterday's news. There was something about this man, about this stranger that made her heart beg __for something more._

_The agreement was for him to pretend to be Davey for one day. It had been his idea to spend the next day together, the three of them. For Frankie's sake she'd participated in the facade, even tolerated the idea that having this man in her son's life just for this weekend might do Frankie some good. It had never been about Lizzie or what she wanted… and yet, it was impossible to ignore the stirrings inside her as the stranger held her on the dance floor…_

"_Things have changed."_

_He looked to her then, his turquoise eyes questioning. "Have they?"_

Lizzie remembered that conversation as if it were yesterday. That entire scene lingered in her subconscious - haunting the sanctity of her dreams like a willful ghost. She could still feel the chill from the night air, and the exhilarating, nervous twitter in her stomach, and the gentle bumping of their elbows as they walked.

And the kiss…

It was just one kiss. It lasted barely a moment, yet somehow it stayed with her night after night. As much as she would have liked to let go of that tender moment, it stubbornly remained tucked in the back of her mind. She'd relived it in her dreams, over and over again. Lizzie wanted to fight it; she wanted the reality that he was gone to wash away the fantasy of him.

These uncontrollable dreams threatened her sanity, but there was one consolation…

…it always ended with the mask.

With the scissors Lizzie carefully cut along her traced pattern, her other hand gripping the sheet of paper tightly.

Of course she couldn't help wonder why Erik wore the mask. Clearly, he wasn't ready to tell her yet, and she wondered if he ever would be. There were things about herself and her own past she was unsure about revealing to him. Even years later, they were painful to think about. There was still so much she didn't know about Erik. What worried her most was that she knew she was falling for him…

…and he hadn't even kissed her.

No, she told herself. She was not going to fall for a stranger…again. It would be too easy to rush into a casual relationship, harming any possible chances of having something really special together. Time was what they needed. Getting to know one another before conjuring fantasies of 'for as long as we both shall live' was far more reasonable. _That's what rational people do_, Lizzie reminded herself. This odd relationship of theirs needed time to bloom, to grow, to develop.

Lizzie finished trimming the final edge of the paper, nodding to herself.

They could be friends…friendly friends. A little handholding and snuggling never hurt anyone, she reasoned. Sure, and she would try not to think of how affected she was by the warmth of his arms, or how her heart skipped a beat when he'd set those cerulean eyes on her. Or the luscious appeal of his sensual, full lips…

She took the pointed tip of the scissors and carefully poked through the cutout.

There was something undeniably appealing about his mask. At this point she couldn't even imagine him without it. To Lizzie, the mask was part of Erik, as commonplace as a birthmark or a mole. It was rather absurd, but at the oddest moments Lizzie found herself mentally picturing what other people would look like wearing one. White, and covering the right side of the face, she had pictured Frankie, Ally, customers at the chip shop, and even her mother.

After she cut out the hole, she trimmed the edges, smoothing the outline.

Tonight she planned to inform him of her intended friendship so that there would be no misunderstandings. She had something special planned, and even fashioned a handmade invitation for Erik. At this very moment her son was delivering it.

She smiled to herself, happy with her new resolve, happy that she was giving herself permission to act as a sane human being. Gingerly, her fingers held up her cutout; she set it gently on the right side of her face, fitting the eyehole over her own eye, gazing approvingly at the reflection in the mirror.

A quick knock at her bedroom door startled her and Nell entered abruptly.

"Lizzie, I'm doing laundry to-" she stopped; the words seemed to have escaped her at the disturbing sight of her daughter.

Red-faced and humiliated, Lizzie crumpled the makeshift mask in her hand in an attempt to hide it.

Puzzled, Nell's gaze fell downward, and she quickly closed the door.

* * *

To Erik, Lizzie was a breath of fresh air. 

Christine had been a girl, young, naive, and insecure. As beautiful and talented as she was, her constant need for reassurance had been tiresome, and while he'd lavished her with attention, Erik had not realized that it would be so much work. Although at the time he hadn't minded.

The more he thought about it he realized there was no comparison.

Lizzie was a woman through and through. She was mature, strong, levelheaded, and intelligent. But it was more than that. Lizzie possessed a subtle beauty. It was a glow that shone from the inside out. He wasn't exactly sure when it happened but the magic of her eyes had taken him prisoner.

The more time they spent together, the more difficult it was to control his feelings. It was becoming painfully apparent that he was falling for her…hard. His heart and his mind screamed warnings. He'd already been down this road once before…

Erik eyed the elegantly scripted invitation that Frankie had just delivered, and since the boy had left he could hardly wipe the smile from his face.

This evening after she comes home from work, Erik was to attend a very special dinner…with Lizzie…and he couldn't wait.

One graceful finger ran along the card, knowing that her gentle fingers had applied the ink to this very special invite. He held up the card to his nose suddenly, hoping that he might catch a whiff of her perfume, or the heavenly lilac scent from her hair.

Reality soon set in as his eyes met the cruel face of the clock. There was composing to be done, and he'd made a point of returning to some old sketches. Today promised to be a very busy day, and Erik set about his tasks, willing the evening to come quickly.

* * *

There was a knock at his door and Erik was quick to answer it, registering the time on the living room clock. 

His backpack hung from his shoulder and with a big smile, Frankie signed his greeting and entered Erik's flat.

Caught up in conversation, magic tricks, and indulging Frankie's boyish imagination, Erik was surprised all too soon by another knock at the door.

* * *

Nell needed no words as she looked up at Erik with one eyebrow raised. She lifted her wrist, pointing to the time on her watch. 

With a single nod, Erik gestured to Frankie, who'd quickly gathered his things, and left the flat with a frown, passing his nana in the doorway as he made his way upstairs.

Erik forced a smile to his lips, opening the door wide for Nell to enter, offering her a gentlemanly bow.

Her lips formed a smirk as she entered.

Before long, the music began to play.

* * *

Lizzie smoothed her hair down, taking a deep breath as she stood at Erik's door. All the preparations had been made with much help from Marie, who'd thought she was crazy. 

"Why go to all this trouble, Lizzie, if all you're going to do is tell the man you only want to be friends?" Marie had a look of utter confusion in her eyes. "Wouldn't it be easier to hit him over the head with a sledgehammer?"

"For now, Marie. I only want to be friends for now. Later, after we get to know each other, we'll see." Methodically Lizzie looked around the room, checking to make sure everything was in place.

Marie lit up the last of the candles on the counter, shaking her head, muttering to herself. But as Lizzie flipped the lights off in the shop, the small torches from the candles glowed brilliantly, and with a look of pure admiration Marie was indeed impressed that her little restaurant could look so enchanting.

It was beautiful, and the dancing lights of the candles reminded Lizzie of Erik's flat. She recalled when he had confessed that light had not been his friend. It had been important to her to make it as comfortable and familiar as possible.

"Right, well that's it," Marie told her, tucking her lighter away in her purse.

"Thank you so much for this, Marie."

"Right," Marie replied, heading towards the door. Her eyes couldn't help catch a last glimpse of the fanciful setting. "Very romantic," she said to herself. She turned on her heels and headed towards the door. With a sigh she flipped the 'open' sign over to the 'closed' side, the jingling of the bell sounding as she opened the door. "Bloody waste."

Fresh from the shower and dressed in a long denim skirt and a form-fitting black sweater, Lizzie poised her hand to knock. She couldn't help wondering if Marie was right.

* * *

The gentle sound of knocking caught his attention. He didn't even bother to inform Nell that her lesson was over. In a flash he was at his door, his lips curving into a smile, anticipating Lizzie's presence on the other side. 

"Hello," he greeted, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.

"Hello," Lizzie greeted shyly. "Ready?"

He nodded, reaching for his overcoat.

Lizzie's eyebrows rose at the familiar sound of keys plunking on the piano. "Is that Ma in there?"

Slipping his arm into the sleeve, he replied, "Yes." He moved out into the entryway beside Lizzie, closing the door behind him.

Lizzie looked up at him questioningly. "Aren't ya going to tell her you're leaving?"

Erik thought about it for a moment and decided he didn't want to waste any more time in his flat. "No."

The feel of his hand on her shoulder sent a jolt through her body and when she met his cerulean gaze, all of a sudden any thoughts of her mother were long forgotten. As the irresistible masculine scent of his cologne played about her nose, she wondered if she would be able to go through with her plan.

* * *

Erik was impressed. It was the first time he'd ever set foot inside the chip shop, although he'd peered in several times from the large window. The formerly homey restaurant had been transformed into an elegant scene. Dozens of candles were spread about, and for once, Erik felt quite at home. Their table was covered with a fine linen cloth, and a large bottle of wine sat between them. Two small tea lights accented their table, illuminating Lizzie's face with a gentle orange glow. 

He sat back in his chair, grateful to the heavens for this woman across from him, and breathed a happy sigh. He took her delicate hands in his and smiled.

This promised to be a very special night.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Thanks for the feedback! I love you people! Hang in there with me and as always please review!

**Chapter 16**

Somewhere in Erik's mind he was sure he heard the grating sound of a record scratching.

"Let me make sure I understand correctly," Erik said, pulling his hands abruptly away from hers and letting them fall into his lap. "You invited me to share this romantic dinner to tell me you want to be friends?"

Her mouth fell open and she blinked. _Maybe Marie had been right_. Lizzie's mind flew into a panic. She did mean it, didn't she? The look of pure heartbreak shadowed his eyes like a grey cloud. She loosened her feet from her shoes and grasped his ankles with her bare toes. "No, Erik…Listen…I…I," she stammered, trying to get the right words out. She reached out to him, but his hands stayed stubbornly in his lap. "I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me, and my mother, and Frankie."

Erik's mind spun, his heart pounded in his chest, and he felt like a fool. Somehow he'd completely misread her. Or she'd sent him bad signals…_for the love of God_, he thought, _her feet were trapping his ankles_! Absently he shook his head, still unable to register the information. "Friends?"

Lizzie wasn't sure how, but she'd completely shaken his confident exterior. _For now_, she thought, but the words wouldn't leave her lips. It wasn't meant to be an outright rejection. _Friends for now, Lizzie, say it! _The pain in his eyes shot right to her soul like an angry bullet. Erik's hands were gripping the table and he was struggling to shake her feet loose from his ankles. He was going to leave if she didn't do something. In her mind she'd had a very different vision of how this evening would play out. As gentlemanly and understanding as Erik was, it seemed impossible to Lizzie for him to abandon her this way. Her chest felt heavy and a crushing feeling pressed hard against her lungs. Her charming, sweet, non-boyfriend phantom couldn't leave; not now, not this way. Her heart simply would not allow it. She shot up from her chair and reached his hands, running her thumb along his knuckles. Willing herself to be calm, she sat back down, scooting her chair close to him. "Please, Erik," she pleaded gently, "let me finish."

The sweetness in her tone soothed him and he abandoned his struggle to get away, training his eyes on his wine glass. His skin felt hot and flushed, and he was grateful for the dim lighting. Quietly he gave her a slight nod.

If there were ever a time she wanted to kiss him, it was now. The masked man sat across from her, adorable, alarmingly handsome, complacent, defeated, and rejected. She longed to throw her arms around his strong shoulders, and promise that they would live happily ever after.

But, that only ever happened in fairy tales…

"I want to take it slowly, Erik," she began softly, her hand closing firmly over his. "Like I told you the other night, I want us to get to know each other. If we get to know each other first as friends, then we have a better chance at having a real relationship."

Erik's gaze finally met hers, and he could see the tenderness in her warm brown eyes. This hadn't been at all what he'd expected, but at least there was hope. Besides, he loved the way she was running her foot along the side of his ankle. Her hands continued to hold his tightly as though she would not let him get away.

He was puzzled though; in his mind friends did not hold hands and play footsies. "But, what about this?" he asked, his hands now wrapping gently around hers, "and this?" He tickled her bare foot playfully with his shoe.

"That," she began, wiggling her toes under the hem of his pants, "and this," she replied, lifting their interlocked hands, "doesn't have to change, but, it can't go any further, for now. Alright?"

With all of his heart he longed to kiss her, and hold her. He wanted to confess that through no fault of his own, that she possessed the ability to stomp his heart into a thousand tiny pieces. _It can't go any further_… It seemed an impossible task. How could he continue to spend time with her only to hope that maybe someday in the future things may progress? His first impulse was to leave that impossibly romantic candlelit setting, bury himself in his music for the rest of the month, and consider starting over, swearing off of women…again, and relocating to someplace far away. _Perhaps the United States_…

But as Lizzie leaned in close and wrapped her arms around him, he could feel the intoxication of her sweet breath on his neck, and inhale the delightful lilac scent from her hair, and as if by their own accord his traitorous hands strayed to her back.

_How could he_ _be apart from her_?

His arms tightened around her back, savoring the warmth of her body. He asked himself again, _how could he be apart from her?_ His fingers found the soft strands of her hair. "Alright."

* * *

_The past…_

Erik had very much hoped to keep his past in the past. Given the new circumstances with Lizzie, he knew whether he liked it or not he was going to have to open up to her.

His thoughts bounced around to the many countries he'd traveled, to the various places he'd called home- England, Iran, Paris, Germany, Russia, Italy, and so many others…

And to a man, an unlikely friend that had turned Erik's life around.

He owed him his life. And it had been months since he'd seen Nadir.

Erik tossed and turned in his bed, recalling the odd chain of events that led to befriending Reza, Nadir's nephew. Nearly the same age as Erik, Reza had become a good friend to him, and tried to always guide him down the right path. Although there was one thing Reza hadn't been able to help him with...

His life began to fall apart when he became addicted to morphine. The Shah's cruel and twisted expectations both drove and encouraged the influence. Erik's drug-hazed imagination had given birth to the worst kind of evil. Murder, lies, corruption surrounded him like a dangerous black shroud. Reza urged him to leave that place while he still could. Erik had been half mad when he fled from Iran, leaving his only friend behind. For months, he'd traveled Europe before finally settling into Paris...

In Paris he had found himself in a very different sort of madness.

Once Christine had gone, Erik had given up on life; given up on staying alive. If it hadn't been for his former headmaster, Nadir Khan, he might have found his death among the damp cellars of the opera house. Nadir had assumed a new role with the SIS, and had tracked Erik down, after learning the identity of the phantom of the opera. Once Reza had informed his uncle that Erik left Iran, Nadir had made a point of searching for Erik, only to lose him in Paris. He seemed to have disappeared, and with the city's numerous underground passageways, it seemed that he'd gone under like a mole. It wasn't until he'd learned that the ghost that haunted the opera house wore a mask that he'd finally made the connection. After much investigation, he found Erik, barely alive, suffering from heartbreak, morphine withdrawal, hunger, and without the will to live.

Nadir could have easily sent Erik to jail for his many crimes, but instead, struck a bargain with him.

"Come work with me."

Erik could hardly move, and his body lay limp and morose in his coffin. "Go away, Nadir. Let me die in peace."

"I cannot just let you die, Erik. Give me one good reason I shouldn't drag you out of this opera house and hand you over to the Paris police."

Erik remembered looking up at Nadir, dressed sharply in a suit, clean-cut, and he no longer saw the young headmaster that he could never quite hate, despite the many and varied punishments he'd meted out to a (mostly) deserving Erik. Here was an official, although his eyes still held a smile, and though he was now in his late forties, his posture and build appeared as strong and healthy as a man half his age.

His blue eyes looked blankly up to Nadir's. "I'll give you a reason," he got out weakly. For all Erik knew, the man before him was just one of his many hallucinations. "I don't care."

Erik wasn't sure if it was at that point that Nadir had claimed his will. Once he'd uttered those three words, Nadir had taken him under his wing, nursed him through the deadly addiction, and initiated him into the SIS.

He fluffed the pillow under his head and a yawn overtook him.

If not for Nadir, where would he be? From time to time, Erik had pondered that very question. More than likely, his body would still lay in the catacombs of the Paris opera house, decomposed, and probably consumed by rats, or even worse, he may have been found alive by the police and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. A shudder ran through his body. Silently he thanked God for Nadir, for his life, and for the people upstairs who cared for him.

Light was starting to peek through the heavy drapes of his window, and Erik felt his lids becoming heavy before he finally drifted off into an unusual dreamless slumber.

* * *

The Next Night 

"Hello, friend, Lizzie," Erik greeted, handing her some white carnations.

A smile lit up her face as she set her sight on the tall masked man before her. His irresistible smile set her pulse racing, and the flowers melted her heart. She opened up the door for him to enter. "Hello, friend, Erik." She lifted the fragrant flowers to her nose, and gestured him to the kitchen table. "The pizza is here."

"Sounds perfect." Erik walked in through Lizzie's flat, nodding hello to Nell, and signing to Frankie, who seemed to him a little distant. He didn't dwell on the matter because he realized for the first time that here he was, about to enjoy a meal like a perfectly normal man, in a flat other than his own, and in the company of other perfectly normal people. For once, he didn't feel self-conscious about the lighting, or how he looked, or how he might appear.

Gone was the worry for acceptance, judgment, or approval. He felt like he could be himself. Erik was among a table of friends, and for the duration of the meal, he couldn't help but smile.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

"Is Frankie feeling okay?" Erik asked as Lizzie handed him a plate to dry. He had to smile at the spot of dish soap bubbles she had on her nose. "He didn't come see me after school today," he continued, taking his tea towel and dabbing gently at her nose. She gave him the most charming, embarrassed smile. "He barely ate his food, and went to his room."

Lizzie scrubbed the cup in her hand with a soapy sponge and sighed. "He's upset. Ma said he ran straight to his room when he came home, and for a while I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to get it out of him."

Erik's eyes never left hers as he waited curiously for her to continue, toweling dry the dish in his hand in nice even strokes.

"Apparently at school today, this boy, Ricky Munro, called him a mute." Lizzie could feel the fury burning inside her. "And normally things like this don't bother him, but he's shut himself up tight as a clam."

He set the plate down on the counter and took another from the dish rack. "This boy, Ricky, is he blond with curly hair?"

With a nod, Lizzie scrubbed hard at a plate. "That's the one." Her eyes narrowed as she pictured her son's tormentor.

Erik could feel the anger coming back from his first meeting with that boy. He turned to Lizzie. "Would you like for me to have a _word_ with Ricky?"

A smile tugged at her lips from Erik's concern, but she shook her head. "No, Erik, but I'll tell ya," Lizzie fumed, attacking the plate furiously, "I wouldn't mind getting a noose and stringing up the little bastard to the nearest tree."

He couldn't help feeling a little aroused by the words that her sweet voice had just spoken. For once he felt at a loss for words, as his mind imagined himself and Lizzie side by side; Lizzie holding Ricky's wrists behind his back while Erik took his punjab lasso and…

"Did you ever have trouble in school?" Lizzie asked, pulling Erik from his fantasy.

Erik had to mentally shake the appealing image from his brain before facing her again. "I used to get in trouble at school," he admitted, accepting a cup from her hand and wrapping it with the towel.

She couldn't help but smile wondering what kind of trouble Erik could've possibly got into. "Did you have trouble with bullies?"

"No," he answered simply. "I didn't have friends either, but bullies weren't a problem. The other boys, though, did not like me."

Her smile turned to a frown. "Was it because of the mask?"

His gaze turned to her. "No, that was before the mask. But still, even though my face was normal, I was different, and the others didn't like me."

"Why not?"

"Because I could do things they couldn't. I had special…" he paused to try to find the right word, "abilities, and I used them sometimes because I thought they would like me," he said with a sigh, "and it got me into trouble."

"What kind of abilities?"

Erik's gaze fell downward to the counter, as he reached inside his mind, and pulled a memory from a long time ago...

"_Give me one good reason I shouldn't suspend you, Erik," he requested__ with the usual sigh. He sat up tall in his chair, with an air of authority, and his brow was raised unceremoniously at the boy across from him._

_At thirty years of age, the man was undoubtedly the youngest headmaster the school had ever known. Despite his youth, he was well-respected by the faculty, and feared by the students. He was known for his efficiency, diplomacy, and disciplinary tactics that had earned himself the loyalty of those around him._

"_I'll never do it again," Erik responded automatically._

_Behind his stern facade, he didn't know just what it was about this boy that really got to him. He ran fingers through his thick black hair and shook his head._

_"I've heard that before, young man. You don't seem to understand. Your..." he paused to find the right word, "unique ability to hypnotize your teachers is unacceptable."_

_Defeated, Erik turned his gaze to the window._

_The headmaster sighed. For some reason, there was a sort of affinity between himself and this boy, this special boy. He'd never known anyone quite like him. Erik was extraordinarily intelligent and talented. On the outside he was an attractive boy, already taller than most boys his age, athletic, and well-rounded. He was at the top of his class, and, if he stayed on track, then he would undoubtedly have a bright future. Although, he could see that things were not as they appeared on the surface. He'd been witness to the students' cruel remarks about the young boy, and given Erik's love for learning he appeared to have no good reason for manipulating his teachers. Yes indeed, Erik was a puzzle to him._

_"I'm afraid I have no choice, Erik, I'm going to have to suspend you."_

_Erik straightened in his chair, snapping his attention to the man before him. His blue eyes moved slowly to his principal's olive complexion, from the black mustache that nearly hung over his upper lip, finally to his brownish-black eyes. Clearing his throat, his intense gaze focused on the man's eyes, as though his eyes could reach out and grasp them with hands of their own. "Mr. Kahn, you will __not__ suspend me."_

_At this he rolled his eyes, stifling a laugh. "I am not susceptible to your powers of suggestion. You should know this by now." He turned his eyes to the open file in front of him. "Perhaps if we discuss this with your father, we can find..."_

_At the mention of his father, Erik's eyes froze, fear filling up their bluish depths. "I won't do it again, Mr. Kahn," he said quietly, almost pleadingly._

_With a raised eyebrow, his gaze met the young boy's again. There was something very suspicious about that man, Erik's father. It was not the first time he'd noticed such a reaction from Erik, and he couldn't help suspecting abuse even though there was no physical evidence of it. Erik's father had made very few appearances to his parent-teacher conferences. He'd often displayed an intimidating, arrogant attitude, and the teachers did not care to meet with him. As far as Erik's mother, he was quite convinced that the woman was a ghost. Supposedly, she lived within the confines of their estate, but was never seen, heard, or spoken to by anyone outside their family. Regardless, he knew that something was going to have to be done to bring the hypnotism to a halt._

_He picked up the phone and began to dial the number on file._

_The boy's eyes widened, and he covered his mouth with his hand._

_A knock at the door caught Mr. Kahn's attention, and the voice of his secretary came through. "Mr. Kahn, I need to speak with you."_

_A smirk appeared on his lips, and he focused his gaze on Erik, whose attention was innocently directed at the ceiling. He narrowed his eyes at the boy and hung up the receiver. "Erik, my secretary is at lunch right now." His middle eastern accent became more pronounced the faster he spoke. "You are a very talented ventriloquist and hypnotist, but I am not going to fall for it. So, please do not insult me."_

_Erik bowed his head in shame, and his posture slumped slightly. "Please don't call my father."_

_For a minute he just studied the boy, who suddenly looked three times his age, as though the weight of the world had fallen on his shoulders. Gifted, brilliant, clever; these were all words that were used to describe him. If he could not find a way to reform him then this suspension would stay permanently on his record...and could haunt him for years to come. As far as his father...it seemed almost cruel to subject the boy to whatever the father's reaction might be._

_Tapping his fingers on his mahogany desk, he spoke again. "I'm going to give you one last chance, Erik. I will not call your father...this time. However, you will serve a month's detention."_

_Erik's mouth fell open, but how could he argue? Besides, other than staying in the company of unruly kids, he'd use the time to study, or read, or even work on one of his favorite hobbies, composing._

_"I know you don't have any friends, Erik, and I know that the other kids can be cruel, but do not let them influence you. You are the one who will pay."_

_With a nod, Erik stood up from the chair. "May I leave now?"_

_"On one condition."_

_All he could think about was leaving the headmaster's office, but still he wanted to know what that condition might be. "What condition?" he asked curiously._

_Mr. Kahn's lips curved into a slight smile. "I don't want to see you back here again."_

* * *

_The Next Day_

_He was new. _

_He was also incredibly thin and wiry. His accent was so thick that it was difficult to understand him when he spoke, and the glasses that he was constantly pushing back onto the bridge of his nose made him a prime target for any bully within a fifty foot radius._

_"No, please," he begged the two boys, who'd already knocked over his books, sending papers flying all over the empty hallway._

_Erik shook his head. This dark-skinned, gangly boy had been picked on everyday since he had begun attending school here the week before. In a way Erik envied him. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be the new kid in school; to start over in a new school, to make friends, to not repeat past mistakes... The boy's howls brought his attention back to his locker in front of him, and he pulled a book out. By this time, one boy had twisted the new boy's arms behind his back, and the other stood before him just about to kick._

_"Leave him alone."_

_In an instant the two boys met Erik's gaze, as the victim looked on with tears._

_"Get out of here, Freak," one boy told him._

_With narrowed eyes, Erik took a breath and spoke again. He was not afraid of these bullies. "I said leave him alone."_

_The second bully released the new boy's hands and joined his friend's side. "Who's going to make us?"_

_His voice was like venom. "I am."_

* * *

_"Give me one good reason I shouldn't suspend you." _

_Erik was silent. He was no tattletale and no matter how much trouble he was about to face, those boys deserved it. He did not regret his actions._

_Mr. Khan shook his head. He had spoken to the two boys first, and they had claimed that Erik had been the perpetrator. To his surprise, the two boys had come to him looking ragged, their eyes and lips swollen, one of them covered his bloody nose with a rag and the other had lost a tooth to Erik's fist. Amazingly, Erik had come in with not even a scratch, his clothing and body unscathed and as fresh as when he'd just arrived at school._

_"If you won't give your account of what happened, Erik, then I have no choice. I have a report from the teacher that you were found beating up these boys, and I want to know why."_

_Erik's gaze fell to the carpeted floor and he made no attempt to reply._

_Picking up the receiver, once again he looked at Erik's file. "I have to call your father."_

_There was a sudden knock at the door, and Mr. Khan looked from Erik to the door, unsure if it was one of Erik's tricks. "Yes?" he asked._

_"Mr. Khan? I have Reza here. He says he needs to speak to you. It's urgent."_

_A frown fell over his lips. Reza had been having some trouble adjusting to this school. His English needed a lot of work, and he was aware that kids were teasing him. His eyes focused on Erik. "I'll finish up with you in a minute. Please go sit outside until I call you back." He raised his voice towards the door, motioning for Erik to leave. "Send Reza in."_

_The door opened and Erik and Reza exchanged curious glances._

_Mr. Khan was beside himself with Reza's appearance. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and his fingers held his glasses, whose frames were mangled hopelessly._

_Reza spoke quickly in his native tongue. "Uncle Nadir, I have something to tell you about that boy."_

* * *

"So, did the headmaster suspend you?" 

Erik's eyes focused on Lizzie, his attention returning to his cup of tea. "No, nor did he call my father."

In truth, Lizzie was fascinated by his recollections, but every new bit of information prompted more questions. Her cup sat on the table, still filled, as she listened intently to him recount this bit from his past.

A somber look shadowed Lizzie's face. "Was your father abusive, Erik? And how on earth did you learn hypnotism?"

He felt tired all of a sudden as he picked up a spoon, stirring his tea. "My turn."

It felt an abrupt way to end that conversation, but Lizzie knew she could not argue. Her eyes turned to her tea and she took a sip. Forcing a smile, she braced herself for his question. "Your turn," she agreed softly, taking another sip of her tea.

"You told me once that I reminded you of someone."

Lizzie felt herself flush from the inside out.

"Do I remind you of Frankie's father?" he asked quietly, finding that he could not meet her gaze.

Lizzie nearly choked, feeling the liquid forcing its way to her nostrils. "Oh, God, no."

He couldn't explain the relief that filled him. Lizzie had not yet confessed the nature of her marriage, but for some reason, Erik did not want to be associated with her late husband in any way, shape, or form. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. "Oh, well who is it then that I remind you of?"

Her eyes opened wide as she struggled for an answer. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. She looked everywhere and anywhere, just so that she didn't have to look at him. "Nobody, Erik...It's just that...that..." she stammered, "I had too much to drink that night, and I wasn't thinking straight."

His eyes pierced hers, willing her to meet his gaze. "I think you're lying."

"No, I'm not, it's just that, well, he was nobody important, that's all."

Erik had the feeling that he wasn't going to get any more out of her. "That's all, huh?"

She sat straight up in her chair and faced him. "That's all."

Somehow, despite the finality in Lizzie's tone, Erik knew he wasn't ready to let this go.

* * *

She looked like a petulant child as she stood by Erik's piano. "Fur Elise!" 

Erik rolled his eyes at the older woman. "For God's sake, Nell, I've already played that piece for you five times!" He shook his head, running his hand through his jet black hair. "How about something else…anything else?"

"Fur Elise!"

Frustrated, he let out a sharp breath, and seated himself at his bench. He counted to three to calm himself, then raised his graceful fingers to the keys. Before his fingers touched, he stopped, and looked up at the determined older woman. "How about one of Beethoven's other pieces, perhaps Moonlight Sonata, or-?"

Nell cut in, "Do you want to know who the man was or not?"

His brow furrowed as he nodded up at her.

A smile overtook her lips. "Well, then play Fur Elise again!"

He released a sigh, but then closed his eyes, and tried not to think about how happy he would be if he never heard this song again. "One last time," he uttered, under his breath. His back straightened, and his fingers moved to the keys automatically.

And a happy, satisfied smile spread over Nell's face as her favorite song began to play.

* * *

A/N: More of Erik's past will be revealed eventually. Thanks for reading and please review! 


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Once again Erik retreated to his piano, slumping onto the bench, his head banging against its shiny top.

In his head he could picture the proverbial idiom- opening a can of worms. Through his thoughtless actions and words, it was precisely what he had done.

_Earlier that day..._

Erik was beside himself.

He could hear the whirring sound of the vacuum cleaner on the other side of the door and continued to knock louder.

Lizzie came to the door, smiling as she opened it, happy by her handsome masked friend's surprise visit. "Hello," she greeted, but to her surprise his lips were not curved in a happy smile, but rather set in a grim line. His disturbed manner caught her off guard and she moved aside for Erik to enter. He swept past her, clearly annoyed.

Puzzled, she closed the door and turned to face him. She found that Erik was standing there in her living room glaring at her. "What's wro…?"

"You hired a STRANGER to pretend to be Frankie's father?"

Her mind raced and her eyes opened wide, alarmed at his disapproving tone. His anger seemed to be veiled by a thin layer of calm. As she watched Erik pace her living room she couldn't help wondering..._how did he find out?_ "I...I..." she stammered.

Erik tried to ignore how attractive she looked dressed in ratty jeans, and her white t-shirt was dangerously transparent. Small wisps of her hair had strayed from her ponytail, and her bangs hung stubbornly in her eyes. Clearly rattled, she was impossibly adorable as she blew the strands from her view. He had to remind himself of his purpose for confronting her. "You hired a stranger to pretend to be Frankie's father?"

"It's not the way it sounds, Erik..."

"You hired a _stranger_...to _pretend_ to be...Frankie's father. How else could that possibly sound?" he asked in a demanding tone.

Lizzie felt her face flushing as she tried to combat his line of questioning. "You don't understand," she shot back. "Frankie made a bet...and..."

"A stranger, Lizzie! My God, what were you thinking?!"

"He wasn't a stranger exactly..."

"Oh, well what was his name?"

Shaking her head, her mind struggled for a response, and Erik's hands flew up in the air as he continued his ranting. "How could you be so careless? The man could've been a child molester-"

Lizzie cut in, "Frankie never left my sight. I always had my eye on them," she argued.

"Or a kidnapper, or a murderer!"

These words; she'd heard them all before, and the memory of it was tempting her anger. Her hands dropped to her hips and her brows formed a tight furrow. "You sound like my mother!"

"What were you thinking letting Frankie go off with some stranger, Lizzie?" he demanded again.

"He was Marie's brother! He was not some bloody stranger off the street!" she yelled defensively, her hands balling into fists. In fact, he had been a stranger, but she wasn't about to admit that to Erik.

Shaking his head, he continued, "How thoughtless! How irresponsible! I can't believe you would do such a thing." The accusations flew steadily as though he hadn't heard a word she said.

She shut her eyes tight, and her hands gripped her head as though she could shut out his string of hurtful attacks. One foot stomped heavily on the carpeted floor, and she spoke through her teeth. "Stop...right...there." Her eyes narrowed at her well-meaning friend, and she advanced on him threateningly. "You don't know _me_, or my _son_, or _anything_ about us," she said icily. "And what I did for my son is none of your damned business!"

Her words shot at him like daggers and before he could retort, the dreadful realization that she was right fell upon him like the weight of an anvil. He'd never argued with a woman before, and though he was shaken by her furious expression, he felt somewhat exhilirated. Tempting as it was to continue arguing, he couldn't bear that Lizzie was upset with him. "Lizzie...I...I..."

The words that came next hit him with the force of a freight train.

"I think you should leave now."

"Please, Lizzie..." he pleaded uselessly as his eyes followed her to her door, his heart sinking as she opened it and gestured roughly for him to leave.

She stood there like a statue, her face stone cold, her eyes narrowed in angry slits. Erik knew at that point there was nothing left to say. He bowed his head to her as he acquiesced, and heard the terrible sound of the door slamming behind him.

* * *

It was the second time he'd been kicked out of Lizzie's flat. 

He reasoned, it was only out of concern for Frankie. When Nell had shared the information, he'd found himself red with fury, not about the similarity in looks between himself and the stranger, but out of care for the boy's well-being.

With a depressed sigh he trudged down the stairway to his flat, berating himself for his hasty words and judgments with every step he took. Erik hated himself at that moment, hated that he had so viciously attacked Lizzie with his words, hated that he'd hurt a woman that he cared so much for, possibly ruining any chances of a future with her.

He retreated to his own flat and plopped himself on his piano bench, letting his head fall to the shiny top.

"Smooth move, Ex Lax."

Erik didn't bother to look up. "You still here?"

Nell almost felt sorry for him. She sipped her tea slowly as she sat at his kitchen table. "You left before I could even finish my last sentence."

"It was because of what _you_ told me about her hiring that man..."

"Right," she replied calmly, "but I didn't tell you to storm upstairs and verbally attack my daughter."

A deep sigh escaped his lips. "Do you think she hates me, Nell?"

Setting her cup down, she thoughtfully set her eyes on the clock. "Probably." She stood up then and made her way towards Erik. "But you never know with Lizzie. She's very unpredictable." She set a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Thanks for the music lesson."

He heard the soft clicking of the door as she left. Once again he was alone, and at that moment that was how he preferred it.

* * *

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when he heard a soft knocking at his door. At first he thought it was his imagination, but his back finally straightened at the insistent but gentle knocking. His only hope was that it might be Lizzie, but his mind screamed that it was too much to ask. 

His heart jumped for joy as he opened the door and found Lizzie standing there. Her expression was sad and serious and they both stood there, frozen in place, neither moving, but only stuck there facing each other in an awkward silence.

Her mouth opened as she met the heartache in his blue eyes, but at first the words seemed stuck in her throat, and Erik could only gaze upon his upstairs neighbor with sorrowful regret.

She blinked once, and willed the words to pass from her lips. "I'm sorry."

A deep intake of breath penetrated his entire body, and without thinking he pulled Lizzie into his embrace, wrapping his arms tight around her, and cradling her head in his hands. "I'm the one who is sorry, Lizzie."

Lizzie felt a tear stray from her eye as Erik held her, enveloping her in his warmth, scaring away the ugly feelings that had been pent up inside of her. Her body shuddered as his hands stroked her hair, and she braced her arms around his muscled back, allowing her tenseness to drain away.

Neither were willing to part as they entered Erik's flat, shutting the door behind them, and in the comfort of each other's arms they stayed.

She pulled away finally and looked up into his eyes. "I'm sorry I kicked you out."

He looked at her incredulously, wondering how this woman could be apologizing for something that was clearly his fault. "I deserved it. I was rude, and ill-behaved, and I don't mean any of those awful things I said to you."

Her gaze dropped and her arms fell into a folded position across her chest. She was quiet for a moment as she paced Erik's living room floor. "Do you think there was a time," she began, lifting her eyes to his, "when I didn't think all those things of myself? Or worse?"

Erik said nothing, surprised by her admission. His feet stayed planted firmly in place, but his eyes remained glued to Lizzie as she nervously paced his floor.

"I was furious, Erik, at the things you said, but I realized that you don't know me, and why I do the things I do. There's a reason for it."

His voice emerged in a whisper, "Tell me."

She nodded her head slightly, and took a long deep breath. "I married Davey when I was eighteen years old..."

* * *

"If the bastard were still alive, I would kill him." 

A smile curved her lips as she looked at him seated on the sofa beside her. "Believe me, there were many times I would've liked to do just that." She lifted a teacup to her lips and took a sip.

His mind raced as it struggled to digest the information, and Erik shook his head, conjuring dangerous images. _Guillotine- too quick, punjab lasso- too merciful_. "No, Davey deserved to live, " he told her darkly, leaning forward on his knees. His eyes darted around the room as though they pictured all the possiblilities. "He deserved to be tortured, and haunted, like you and Frankie, but worse." _Castration- hmmm_.

"He was a sick man, Erik. And he didn't think rationally. Alcohol had a very heavy influence on him." She forced a smile to lighten the mood.

Erik supposed that in a small way he could relate, although none of his victims had ever been children.

"And besides, the liver disease took care of that for us," she continued, relieved that this was all out in the open. She set her cup down on the coffee table and looked over to Erik's distraught face. Her eyes fell upon his perfect profile, admiring the straightness of his nose, the masculine set of his jaw, and the tempting form of his lips. She took his hand in hers and leaned backward on the couch. "It's in the past now." It was all very endearing. Even though she hadn't appreciated his earlier insults, she had appreciated his concern. She loved how protective Erik had become of her and Frankie.

For moments he sat like that, his cold mind calculating, wondering if it was possible to exhume the grave...He hadn't even felt Lizzie's hand braced securely in his own, but when her other hand began to rub the tense muscles of his back, he quickly turned his eyes to her. He hadn't even noticed until now, how beautiful she looked sitting there on his sofa, and realized how right this all felt. Her eyes were warm as her fingers moved up the length of his back. And waves of pure pleasure ran through him as the magic of her fingers massaged and caressed. His eyes fell closed as he reveled in the gentle, easing comfort.

Of its own accord Lizzie's other hand joined the one on Erik's back, and she couldn't stop her fingers once they begun, kneading, and massaging, loving the awesome feel of his muscles beneath his shirt. If only she could remove it… She tried to forgo that line of thinking, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. He sat upright, his body responding to her touch, a low moan escaping his lips. Her chest visibly began to rise and fall as her fingers claimed their reign over his shoulders and neck, and she had to try to remind herself that they were just friends after all. But when his piercing eyes shot back at her, she could see the fire she'd lit within them. Her mind could clearly picture images from her dreams where he'd held her, and loved every inch of her body; he'd kissed her, and teased her, and made her beg for more. And in her dreams, Erik had consumed her, and fulfilled every desire… The temptation was too great, and while she foolishly had told him and tried to convince herself that they should only be friends, her heart, and her body, and her soul told her different.

Their eyes locked, and he was struck by the passion in her eyes. Slowly and deliberately he turned to her, his hand falling to the soft skin of her cheek, the other tilting her chin up toward him as his face inched its way toward hers. His heart was pounding like a drum, and with every fiber of his being, he wanted this, her kiss, her heart, her. His thumb grazed her cheek tenderly, and he was but a breath away from tasting the heaven of her lips, when she uttered the words that turned him stone cold.

"No, Erik. We're just friends."

She didn't know why she said them. They seemed to be the appropriate response, a useless last ditch effort to stick to her guns, to prove to herself that she had any convictions. Her body completely betrayed her, as she made no move to pull away. In fact, in her mind, she was saying, "Yes, Erik. Yes." Her lips were parted slightly, eager to receive his kiss, when his expression changed completely.

He couldn't believe it, and he didn't want to accept her answer. Erik couldn't help himself; he wanted her so badly…

His eyes locked on hers once again, claiming her with their vivid blue color. His face turned serious, and the mesmerizing quality of his tone disarmed her. "_No_, Lizzie, we are _more_ than friends."

"Erik?" she breathed, momentarily stunned by the musical quality of his voice, her eyes helpless to escape his gaze.

Inwardly he smiled, as she stayed locked in place. "Yes, Lizzie?"

"Are you bloody joking?"

Stunned, his eyebrows rose, and found the vulnerable, soft expression in her warm brown eyes gone as she looked at him incredulously.

"Were you trying to hypnotize me?!"

He felt his face flush beneath the mask as he opened his mouth to answer, only to find himself shaken first by her realization and then by her angry surprise.

She shot up from the sofa. Her mouth was open wide and she shook her head incredulously. "I don't believe it." Her hands fell to her hips. "I thought I could trust you!"

Burying his face in his hands, he experienced a wide range of emotions; frustration, rejection, disillusionment, but the worst, anger, emerged from the sting of Lizzie's words.

"I assure you, Erik," she went on haughtily, "_I_ am not susceptible to your powers of suggestion!"

He lifted his face from his hands then, his blue eyes cold. "I assure you, _friend_ Lizzie, that you are _quite _susceptible."

Puzzled, she looked at him, the dread mounting inside her, awaiting further explanation. A part of her was sure she didn't want to know.

"That night that we first met," he began icily, "you were intoxicated, and had I wished it, I could've had you right then and there."

Her mind attempted to register the blow he had just delivered, and Lizzie desperately tried to recall the events that had taken place that night…

…and how exactly she'd made it to her bed.

It should have been enough for him to see her visibly shaken standing there, her eyes wrought with distress, but the words he said next would haunt him for days to come.

He stood then and advanced on her like a panther. His voice was as cold as ice. "I've never had any trouble before." He was right by her side, and his voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Women are _very_ susceptible to my voice."

Lizzie shook with horror, her mind reeling from his stinging admission. Her gaze fell to his carpeted floor. "You've used your hypnotism to…to…" she began weakly, unsteady on her feet, "manipulate women?"

He didn't know what it was, maybe the look of utter disgust that claimed her soft features, or the loathing in her eyes, or the way she had protectively wrapped her arms around herself so tight…

…or the horrific realization that this could change things forever.

Quickly he recoiled, his tone changing. "Lizzie, I…I…" He didn't know what to say. He sorely wished he could take it back.

Her eyes shot to him, and the fury rose inside her. She would have screamed at the top of her lungs for him to get out, but she was inside his flat. Promptly, she turned on her heel, and headed for the door.

Erik rushed after her, reaching her hand as she braced the doorknob. "Lizzie, please…"

"I can't even stand to look at you right now," she hissed, pulling her hand furiously from his grasp.

And for the second time that day, he flinched from the awful, earth-shattering, heart wrenching sound of the door slamming.

Once again he retreated to the piano, slumping onto the bench, his head banging against its shiny top.

In his head he could picture the proverbial idiom- opening a can of worms. Through his thoughtless words and actions, it was precisely what he had done.

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

A knock at the door distracted Nell, who'd been diligently practicing her scales at Erik's piano. She rose quickly and opened the door. A pleasant smile graced her lips as she set her eyes on the tall, dark, distinguished man before her. Thick salt and peppered hair surrounded a crown of bare olive skin atop his head, and wisps of gray played at his temples. "Hello, handsome," she greeted.

The man was taken aback, and an amused glint lit his eyes. His eyebrows rose as he looked at the older lady holding the door. "I apologize. I must have the wrong flat."

She was immediately entranced with his accent. "Are you looking for Erik?"

"Yes," he said, smiling, relieved that he had finally found his elusive friend.

Her eyebrows knit together curiously as she looked at the dimpled man before her. "Who are you?"

"Oh, right, I am a friend of Erik's."

"Erik has friends?" Nell asked, puzzled.

The man chuckled. "I know. It's hard to believe. Not very many, though, I assure you."

There was a warm resonance to his laugh that appealed to Nell, and she giggled as she opened the door, gesturing for him to enter, her eyes unceremoniously following his backside.

He couldn't help wondering who this woman was, and what her relationship was to Erik. "So, I take it you are also a friend of his?"

"He gives me piano lessons."

She gestured for him to sit on the sofa, and as he sat he was fascinated by the thought of it. "So, he's giving lessons now?"

"No," Nell answered. "Only to me."

His eyes darted around the well-lit area, observing the drapes were open, and the room was filled with the telltale candles. "Is Erik here?"

"No. He's upstairs arguing with my daughter," she replied casually, pointing to the ceiling, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "He should be back soo-"

She was cut off by the disturbing noise of a door slamming, and they both looked upward at the same time.

"Sounds like they're done. He'll be here any minute now." Nell noticed the frown on the man's face, and added, "Women problems." She chuckled as she planted herself beside him on the sofa.

Good-naturedly, he laughed. "Well, he's always had plenty of those!"

Nell felt a little giddy. It had been quite some time since she had been in the company of such an attractive older man. His dark eyes smiled even when his lips did not and she always had been partial to men with a mustache.

Their laughter was interrupted and their eyes darted to the door as Erik entered with fallen features, and slumped shoulders. Erik's eyes were on the floor as he trudged across the room, not even noticing his additional guest.

"Hello, old friend."

Erik's head popped up as his mind quickly registered the familiar voice he had not heard in months. His eyes opened wide as he found Nadir sitting next to Nell on his sofa, both of them smiling. "Nadir!" Nell and Nadir both stood, and Erik quickly met Nadir's hand with a shake, slightly hugging him, and thumping him soundly on the back. Erik stood on the other side of Nadir, and looked from his neighbor to his old friend. "You know each other?"

"We haven't been properly introduced," Nadir began, "but I admit this charming lady here has made me feel very welcome."

Erik blinked. "What charming lady?" he asked innocently, until he noticed the scowl that had overcome Nell's face. "Oh, Nell," he said blankly, then turned to his friend. "Nadir, this is my upstairs neighbor, Nell," he said, gesturing from one to the other, "Nell, this is my old friend, Nadir."

They shook hands, exchanging smiles.

"Pleasure to meet you, Nadir," Nell said in her most proper tone, liking the way his name rolled off her tongue.

"The pleasure is all mine," Nadir replied warmly, bracing the top of her hand with his other one.

Erik was genuinely happy to see him, and smiled as he looked him over. Standing nearly six feet tall, Nadir was a few inches shorter than Erik. "I see retirement has agreed with you, old man," Erik said, pointing to Nadir's well-rounded belly.

With a chuckle, Nadir replied, "Well, I haven't retired completely...I still do side-"

Erik stopped Nadir for a moment with his hand, and turned his annoyed gaze to Nell, who was still standing there, her smiling face bright as she listened to their conversation. "Nell? Isn't there some place you have to be?"

The smile fell from her face, and she felt an embarrassed flush rise to her cheeks as she remembered her manners. "Right...I have to...fold some towels."

Erik gave her a mocking smile. "Too-da-loo," he said, waving at her with wiggly fingers.

She shot him a dirty look, but then turned to Nadir, extending her hand to him once more. "It was a pleasure meeting _you_, Nadir."

He took her hands in his once again, baring a wide grin. "The pleasure was all mine."

Erik rolled his eyes.

She headed towards the door and waved. "Cheerio, and hope to see you again, handsome," she said shamelessly, winking, and casting a flirtatious look to Erik's older friend.

Nadir smiled and winked back. "I hope that it is very soon."

Erik looked from his friend to his former laundry nemesis, and his jaw dropped.

* * *

The three women leaned on the counter at the chip shop as Lizzie droned on. 

"It's maddening! I mean, can you believe he did that??" Lizzie asked Marie and Cindy, who were situated on either side of her.

Marie rolled her eyes, and turned to straighten the packets of cigarettes on the shelf behind her.

"I wonder what it feels like to be hypnotized," Cindy pondered.

"Well, I'm sure I don't know, Cindy, but I wouldn't want anyone having that kind of control over me!" Lizzie huffed.

"In my psychology class, we studied hypnotism, and according to my professor, anyone who is not willing to be hypnotized cannot be."

"Right. He couldn't hypnotize me," she said, narrowing her eyes. "But what about all those poor other women?"

"This is what I'm trying to say, Lizzie," Cindy explained. "Hypnotism is basically a suggestion, like the hypnotist asks a question, or makes a strong suggestion, and it is up to the person to decide if they accept the suggestion or not. In your case you didn't, but that doesn't mean that those other women weren't open to it."

Lizzie's eyebrows knit and she shook her head. "No, Cindy, it was wrong what he did, no matter how you put it."

"I would _definitely_ be open to suggestions..." Cindy laughed. "But if you think about it, the poor guy probably doesn't see much action."

Lizzie's mouth fell open, unable to believe Cindy's words. "Cindy-"

"If you didn't know him, Lizzie, and he approached you, one side of his face covered, do you think you would offer him some tea, or run away screaming?"

"The girl's got a point," Marie muttered, shaking her head, as she busily restocked the shelf against the wall.

Lizzie turned to Marie suddenly. "So you agree with Cindy, Marie? You've been awfully quiet. I'd like to hear what you think now."

Marie reached for a large carton of cigarettes, and struggled with the plastic seal, fixing her blue eyes on her clueless employee. "You don't want to hear what I think."

"Aye, I do," Lizzie replied. _Maybe_.

"I think the whole thing is bloody ridiculous."

Cindy lifted her hand to her mouth and giggled, as Lizzie looked open-mouthed at her boss.

"What?"

"It's childish, Lizzie, there I've said it." Marie's tone became increasingly more exasperated. "It's like a silly cat and mouse game. You obviously like him, he likes you, then you set him up for this romantic dinner to tell him you want to be friends, and then, you are in his flat, on his sofa, offering yourself up for a kiss, which you admitted to yourself, and then what do you do? You tell him you want to be friends!" Marie turned from her then, unloading the packets from the carton.

"What about what he's done, Marie?"

"It doesn't matter-"

"How can it not matter to those women?" Lizzie asked incredulously.

"It's probably like Cindy says. It's not like Erik has women beating down his door, right?"

Lizzie's brows wrinkled together in frustration as she looked from Cindy to Marie.

Marie turned to Lizzie then, letting out a sigh, pointing out something that was clearly obvious. "Like he told you, when we went out on your birthday, the very next morning you found yourself in your own bed, _not _in his, and that has to say something right there."

Nodding, Cindy reached for a package of napkins and headed to the dispensers on the tables. Lizzie heaved a frustrated sigh. Obviously she wasn't going to gain sympathy from these women. But still, the things that they had said made her think...

* * *

"It just hasn't been the same since you left, Erik." 

Erik smiled to his old friend as he poured the thick tea into a cup. "Things have probably been better."

Nadir smiled back as he accepted the teacup from Erik, and lifted the lever to the samovar, filling the cup with the steaming water. "It wasn't your fault, Erik, and nobody blames you. There was no way you could have known that the woman was going to jump from that building. You know as well as I do, not everyone is susceptible to hypnotism."

Pouring some tea into his own cup, Erik nodded. "Apparently I've lost my touch," he said bitterly. He heaved a long sigh. "She looked like my mother, Madeline, you know?"

Nadir sat at the table, and spooned some raw sugar into his tea. "No, you never told me that before."

"It was a shock when my mother died, and seeing that woman jump out of that window..." he paused, shaking his head, "I felt like a child again. Helpless. That's why I left."

"They understand that, Erik. There is no need to run anymore. You have helped many people and saved many lives. You have redeemed yourself, and I've never said this to you before, but I am proud of you."

Erik's blue eyes met Nadir's blackish brown ones, and suddenly he felt a large burden fall from his shoulders. "Thank you."

A knock at the door interrupted, and Erik glanced up at the clock. With a smile he made his way to the door. Just as he suspected Frankie was there with his backpack hanging from his shoulder.

Erik grinned at the young boy and signed to him. "I'm so happy that you are here, Frankie. There's someone I would like you to meet."

Frankie nodded and his eyes turned to the olive-skinned man standing in the doorway. Nadir set his cup down on the table and greeted Frankie with a smile.

His hands moved quickly as he signed to the nine year old. "This is my friend, Frankie." Erik turned to Frankie and made the introductions.

A smile overtook the older man's face and his hands signed as he spoke, "Erik was just telling me about you, Frankie. It is wonderful to meet you." Nadir held his hand out for the boy to shake. "He said that you have been a good friend."

Pleased to share this form of communication, Frankie smiled. "How do you know sign language?" Frankie signed.

Nadir's gaze fell uncomfortably, "My nephew," he paused, "he..."

Erik turned to Nadir. "Let me." He gestured for Frankie to put down his backpack and sit. "Nadir's nephew, Reza was a policeman in his country, Iran. One day a terrorist bomb went off too close to him, and the sound level ruptured his eardrums."

Nadir felt uneasy recalling the disturbing memory. "I stayed in Iran with him for about a year, and although Erik already knew..."

"That is correct. My father had taught me when I was a child," Erik added.

"I learned sign language and was able to practice with Erik to communicate with Reza," Nadir told the young boy.

"Were a lot of people hurt?" Frankie wanted to know.

Shaking his head, Erik replied, "No, Frankie, no one else was hurt, except the terrorist."

"Is he still a policeman?" the boy asked with curious eyes, his hands still moving.

"Reza works in a special department now, as a detective," Nadir replied. Immediately he could see the easy friendship that Erik and Frankie shared. He found himself affected by the boy.

"Come, Frankie," Erik began, tapping Frankie's shoulder. "My good friend has reminded me of a new trick to show you."

* * *

_The Next Day_

Erik had followed Lizzie upstairs after she'd entered their building, hoping to coax her into speaking, but was confronted by her cool indifference, and when she unlocked her door to enter he wondered if she might actually slam the door in his face again. Her brown eyes were hard when she finally faced him, and after moments of painful silence she spoke.

"How many, Erik?"

Erik looked at the fiery expression in her eyes as she held her door. He was grateful that she was speaking to him at all. "How many what?"

"Women, Erik. How many women?" she demanded, partly afraid to hear the answer.

_Tread carefully, Erik_. "If you don't count the one in Germany..."

Lizzie's hands balled up in fists. "Erik!"

"Five."

_Five_. It wasn't an incredibly alarming number. "Are you telling the truth, Erik?"

"Yes, there were five women."

She was silent for a moment, then backed away from the door, opening it, but then headed back to her living room. At the moment she wasn't ready to politely invite him in, however she left the door open so he could follow her inside. Erik stared at Lizzie's unacknowledged welcome and entered.

Her tone suddenly turned angry. "So, how do you know there aren't a bunch of little Eriks running about?"

Erik shook his head. "Nearly impossible."

Lizzie looked at him incredulously, and her arms were folded tightly. "Nearly impossible? Why's that?"

His blue eyes darted around the room, feeling slightly embarrassed about sharing this personal information. "Where is your mother?" he asked, and promptly closed the front door.

"She's not here. She met your friend for breakfast."

A slow blush spread throughout his body and invaded his cheeks. This was not the kind of thing he would have liked to admit to anyone. "Have a seat."

_10 difficult minutes later_

Lizzie uncrossed her legs, and leaned forward on her sofa. "So, let me get this straight. After the woman...," she paused uncomfortably, gesturing with her hand for the right word, "finishes her business..."

Erik nodded.

"Then she snaps out of it, before _you _have the opportunity to...finish yours?" she asked uneasily, gesturing again.

"That is correct."

She fell back into the sofa cushions at this new revelation, her mind still trying to process the information.

"It's in my past, Lizzie. I would never do it again," he told her softly. "Besides," he began, mostly to himself, "the screaming is unbearable."

Lizzie's eyes shot up at him. "Screaming?" she asked, her mouth falling open as the realization dawned on her. "I remember hearing a woman screaming on the night of my birthday!"

Erik's eyes shut tightly as he berated himself for sharing that unnecessary tidbit.

The whole thing was a little too recent for Lizzie's taste. She sprung up from the sofa, and pointed to the door. "GET OUT!"

"But, Lizzie, I...I..." he protested, as she followed behind him, furiously pointing to the door.

She shoved him outside, and slammed the door.

His eyes looked sadly at Lizzie's wooden door. By this time he had already memorized every groove, every scratch. His face fell against it, the mask hitting it slightly. A sigh overtook his body. "You don't understand, Lizzie. I'm... sorry that I tried to hypnotize you the other day. It was wrong and stupid, a momentary weakness. The fact of the matter is, I want to be with you very badly, Lizzie, and I only want to be with you if you want to be with me. I suppose I could keep you under some spell, but, I would not do that. Believe me when I tell you this, I would never try to keep you if you didn't want to stay," he told the door softly. "I refuse to be like my father."

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for your feedback! More of Erik's past will be revealed in future chapters so please hang in there with me... and please review! 


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

"_The fact of the matter is, I want to be with you very badly, Lizzie, and I only want to be with you if you want to be with me. I suppose I could keep you under some spell, but, I wouldn't do that. Believe me when I tell you this, I would never try to keep you if you didn't want to stay," he told the door softly. "I refuse to be like my father."_

Lizzie didn't know how long she'd stood by her door. She was visibly shaken as she struggled to digest his painful words. Though Erik had admitted very little to her, she could gather there had been a strong possibility of abuse. With his father's demanding and perfectionist nature, Lizzie wondered exactly how that had affected Erik. Her own father had been an alcoholic, and abusive towards her mother. _Things like that you don't_ _just forget_, she thought wryly, _you carry them with you your whole life_.

_And sometimes if you aren't careful, history repeats itself. _

Her thoughts were interrupted by a giggle from the other side of the door, and her jaw dropped as she peeked through the peephole to find her mother in the arms of a tall, dark, balding man, her lips shamelessly fastened to his.

She instinctively jumped back away from the door, and then paced her living room in disbelief.

After a few endless minutes, her mother finally entered, and Lizzie was quick to confront her. "Mother!"

"What?" Nell asked innocently.

"You kissed him?!"

The older woman's grin was from ear to ear. "He either kissed me, or maybe it was the other way around. Who bloody cares?" She started forward, setting her handbag happily on the coffee table, ignoring her daughter's appalled expression. "Anyhow, that man is a damn good kisser!"

Lizzie gasped, horrified by her mom's admission.

"I especially liked the way his mustache tickled my upper lip."

"Mother!" Lizzie yelled, her hands bracing her head, as though she could shut out the visual her mother had just presented her.

"What?"

"You just met him!"

"Oh, now look who's the pot calling the kettle black!"

Lizzie began to feel the blood creeping to her cheeks. "What are you talking about?"

"At least I know his name."

Dumbstruck, she just stared at her mother, red-faced and open-mouthed. "How did you know about that?"

Nell gave her a sneaky smile. "You just told me."

* * *

Erik reached a very important decision after Lizzie slammed the door shut in his face. He felt almost liberated as he walked down the stairs, straightening his posture, and striding in through his front door. 

Pulling his composition from his file folder, he realized it was the only reasonable solution. He set the sheets on the music rack and began to play when Nadir entered.

"Good morning, Erik."

"Good morning, Nadir," he replied happily, speaking over the music.

Nadir's face wore a broad grin. "You're very chipper this morning."

"I'm through with women," he declared loudly to Nadir.

With a nod the older man headed towards the kitchen. "I am sure I've heard that before."

Erik's fingers lifted from the keys. "Yes, well, I really mean it this time, old man."

Nadir stuck his head out from the kitchen. "I am sure I've heard that too."

"The only way I will ever have any peace is to forget that women exist," he continued, his fingers meeting the keys again.

"And bury yourself in your music," Nadir finished for him, pouring himself some tea.

"Exactly!"

The music from the piano continued, and Nadir spooned some raw sugar into his tea. With teacup in hand he came out to find his friend playing the instrument enthusiastically. Erik had made progress with this piece, and Nadir was quite certain that one day it would be published.

"It isn't finished," Erik grumbled. He reached for a pencil and made a few notes on the sheet. "But someday…someday soon, my friend."

"You know, Erik…" he began, approaching him at the piano. "Don't you think this decision may be a little hasty? After all everyone deserves a second chance, I mean, look at Nell and myself."

Erik inwardly shuddered. This was not an image he cared to cloud his mind with. He began to play his music louder, his fingers meeting the keys exaggeratedly, ignoring the advice of his old friend. _After all_, Erik thought, _Nell wasn't slamming the door on him._

The thought of those two together gave Erik another shudder.

Nadir took another sip of tea, and sighed. He had come to learn that Erik could be very stubborn. Approaching Erik at the piano, Nadir set a hand on his back. "Think about it."

* * *

"I think that's the worst thing I've ever heard," Marie told Lizzie, shaking her head, as she flipped the fish in the warmer. 

Cindy looked stunned as she leaned her elbows on the counter, her blue eyes fixed on Lizzie. "There were five women?"

Tying her smock around her waist, Lizzie nodded, hoping that she'd finally swayed the ladies with her argument.

"And so," Marie continued, "He hypnotized these women, and before he'd finished his business they woke up screaming!"

"Serves him right, I say," Lizzie said righteously, reaching a cleaning cloth, and wiping the counter.

"That had to hurt the man's ego," Marie replied, moving her attention to the deep fryer.

"Absolutely," Cindy agreed.

Lizzie didn't care for the direction this conversation was taking. "You are forgetting that he'd put them into a bloody trance!" She stood facing Marie and Cindy with her hands on hips. "I heard a woman screaming the night of my birthday."

Marie put down her tongs for a moment and looked at Lizzie suspiciously. "Is that what's really bothering you, Lizzie?"

"If you think about it," Cindy began with a smile, "as long as he used protection, he was doing these women a service!"

"It's sick and twisted, Cindy!" Lizzie spat to the young blond then turned her gaze from Cindy to Marie, "And has the whole world gone mad that I'm the only one who bloody thinks so?"

Cindy's voice dropped, and her blue eyes cast downward. "Worse crimes have been committed."

Marie piped in, "Yeah, and can't you just picture the headline?" Marie moved her hand from right to left in one fluid wave motion. "Masked man satisfies women round the globe."

Cindy gathered her books in her hand, and hung her purse on her shoulder, heading towards the door. "Sign me up!" Cindy volunteered.

Lizzie gaped at the two women, and when the bell sounded as Cindy left, she knew that it was going to be a very long day.

* * *

It was nearly dark when Lizzie arrived home, and she heaved a sigh as she hung her purse on her chair, and peeled off her long coat. 

The flat was eerily quiet, and she searched for her mother and son when she heard the sound of the shower running.

Frankie was not in his room, and Lizzie found it odd that her mother should be showering at this late hour. She found herself slightly irritated that Frankie was probably with Erik. After everything that had transpired between them, maybe she should put a stop to it…

Lizzie plopped herself on the sofa, and allowed her aching feet to rest on the coffee table. Her mind whirled with all the doubts about Erik that had been consuming her. _Raised in an abusive home, wears a mask, uses his voice to hypnotize, wears a mask, plays the piano all night, wears_ _a mask_… She could picture those cerulean eyes, the way they had locked onto her, gripping her with their invisible pull, and how she was impossibly attracted to him beyond all reason. Even now, the devilishly handsome masked man seemed to be inside her head. Suspicious, nagging thoughts poked and prodded at her brain when her mother emerged in a robe, with a towel wrapped around her head.

"Where's Frankie?" Lizzie asked, feeling an annoying ache gnawing at her temples.

"He's staying with Catriona for dinner. He'll be home later," Nell replied hurriedly, rushing around the flat like a chicken with her head cut off. "Have you seen my brush?"

Shaking her head, she stood and followed her mother around, observing the older woman's odd behavior. "What's with you?" she asked, picking up her brush from Nell's dresser and handing it to her.

Nell stood at her closet with a frown, hastily flipping from one clothing selection to the next. She stopped for a moment and faced her daughter. "I have a date."

"You're…you're seeing…that man… again?" Lizzie stammered, partially unable to believe that her mother was having better luck with men than she was.

"Nadir," she affirmed, winking at her daughter. She turned her gaze back to her closet, muttering to herself how she truly had nothing decent to wear.

"Ma?" Lizzie began, unsure of how to bring up this delicate subject. "I'm not sure you should be taking piano lessons from Erik anymore."

Nell's head snapped back to face her daughter. "And why would that be?"

"I'm just not so sure about Erik anymore, if he's so safe to be around…" Lizzie began, wringing her fingers nervously. "The ventriloquism, hypnotism…he never goes out in public, it's like he's content to be a ghost, and there's still so much about him I don't know…did you ever get the feeling that there was something not quite right about him," she asked, observing her mother's blank expression. "You know…that maybe he's…?" She whirled her index finger to the side of her forehead. "You know?"

Leaning in towards her daughter, Nell's voice fell to a whisper, "Crazy?"

In response, Lizzie's eyes became wide and she swallowed, nodding her head.

Nell held up her brush, pointing to her daughter as she spoke. "You know, Lizzie? I think you may be right."

"Really?"

"Aye. In fact…" she paused, tapping the bristles thoughtfully to her cheek, "he's bloody _insane_ the way he allows you to string him along the way you do."

"Mother!" Lizzie's eyes rolled to the ceiling. "I am not joking."

"Neither am I, Lizzie, and I have no reason whatsoever to believe that man downstairs would harm any one of us!"

"But…" Lizzie cut in, but both stopped their quibbling as they heard a knock at the door.

"That's Nadir," Nell said, shoving Lizzie out of her room. "Tell him I'll be right out."

Grumbling and rolling her eyes, Lizzie made her way to the front door, determined to hate her mum's new beau. "If one more person defends Erik, I'm going to scream," she muttered to herself. She took one quick breath, and pasted a smile to her face as she opened the door.

"Hello," Lizzie greeted politely to the dark-skinned older man.

"Ah yes, hello, Lizzie? My name is Nadir," he told her, offering his hand to shake.

Despite her new resolve to dislike the man, she found Nadir oddly likable. His smile was infectious, and the dimples that peeked from his cheeks gave him a certain charm. She shook his hand, and opened the door for him to enter. "My mum's getting ready. She'll be out in a few minutes." Lizzie gestured him to the sofa.

"Perfect," he replied warmly, as his eyes roamed the surroundings. "That gives us a chance to get to know each other."

Lizzie's eyebrows lifted. She wasn't sure that she wanted to get to know this man.

"Tea?" she offered uneasily.

"I'd love some tea, thank you." Nadir sat back in the sofa. "I've heard a lot about you, Lizzie."

Lizzie emerged from the kitchen with teakettle in hand. "Yah, well, I wouldn't believe everything that Erik tells you."

Sitting up on the sofa, he was quick to reply. "Erik has told me nothing about you." It didn't fail to escape Nadir how that comment had nearly made her wince. "Your mother, however, has told me much about you and your charming son, Frankie."

Her eyebrow shot up in surprise. Shouldn't Erik have mentioned Lizzie to his close friend? Then her mind shot back at her with: should she care? "Right." Turning on her heels, she spoke offhandedly, "Well, I wouldn't believe everything _she_ says either."

Nadir stood, and instead of waiting he followed Lizzie to the kitchen and seated himself at the table. "They've all been good things."

Carefully she set the kettle on the stove and eyed the olive-skinned man curiously. "So, how long are you staying with Erik?"

"I had planned on one week, maybe more."

Lizzie's tone softened a bit as she contemplated what little she knew of this man. "You were Erik's headmaster?"

His laugh thundered through the small kitchen, and his eyes twinkled as his white teeth gleamed from beneath the thick mustache. "It is true- many years ago."

"And you were affiliated with him in the SIS?"

Nadir's cheerful expression turned serious as he regarded Lizzie thoughtfully. "You could say that. Although, I have to confess I'm surprised that Erik told you of this."

Her body relaxed against the counter, and she was surprised how at ease she felt with this man. "He hasn't revealed much."

"That is a good thing."

A myriad of questions poked at her brain like a stubborn woodpecker, and her mouth opened to speak when the whistling of the teakettle grabbed her attention. Lizzie took the kettle and joined him at the table, pouring some reheated tea into two cups. "Do you mind if I ask you something about him?"

5 minutes later-

"So, without saying too much, Lizzie, indeed Erik is of sound mind," Nadir told her, smiling up at her as she refilled his cup. "That wasn't always the case, of course, but after intense counseling and therapy, anger management training, Erik has learned to control his life, his temper, and his emotions. If that were not the case he would not have been capable of working for the SIS."

She had to admit that she did feel better about this new information.

"He is a good man, Lizzie," Nadir told her, his eyes warm as he looked at her. "His past is behind him, and I suspect that it would be best to keep it there." His eyes met the woman across from him, whose overly concerned features had begun to soften. "But I suppose none of this really matters anyway."

"Why not?"

"Because Erik told me just this morning that he has sworn off women."

Lizzie felt like she had been struck by a powerful jolt. Burning blood pounded through her veins as she shot up from her chair. Her hands balled into fists, and her voice rose an octave. "Oh, he said that, did he?!"

"So what's underneath that mask?" Nell asked from the doorway as she entered from the doorway.

Nadir rose quickly from his chair to set a kiss on her cheek, and took his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly. "Like I told your daughter, these things are not for me to tell."

Lizzie could feel her face was red hot as she turned her gaze to Nadir, who at the moment only had eyes for her mother. "Is Erik downstairs?"

Nadir shook his head. "I believe he said something about doing laundry this evening."

Filled with righteous indignation, Lizzie pulled herself stiffly erect, and reached for her coat. "Laundry," she said through gritted teeth, her eyes narrowed, and striding purposefully to the door, she left Nadir and her mother staring after her.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for all the angst! Please hang in there with me...and please review. I love to hear from you! 


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"...sworn off women?" _How dare he say that?!_

Nadir's words had played endlessly in Lizzie's mind.

Blind fury alone drove Lizzie to the laundry room. Angry tears stung her eyes as her feet carried her.

She peered in through the window, but her eyes met nothing but cool darkness. Undaunted, she turned the doorknob and entered the dusky room. The telltale whirring noise of the washing machine filled her ears.

"Erik!" she called out uncertainly, her vision still not adjusted to the dark. She waited for a response but there was none, and still the whirring continued. Hastily, her hand fumbled along the wall until it reached the light switch, and quickly flipped it on.

The fluorescent light flickered as it encompassed the small room, and Lizzie's gaze quickly fixed on the tall figure she'd been in search of. Clothed in his long, black overcoat his back was toward her as he faced the bulletin board, his long arms were leaning on the folding table, and his head was tilted downward.

Awestruck for a moment by his remarkable height and powerful presence, Lizzie remembered her anger. Standing in full defense mode, she braced her hands on her hips; her eyes were narrow slits as she called his name again.

Erik straightened as she spoke again.

"So you've sworn off women," she bit out in an icy accusation.

He turned to her then, a look of surprise on his face.

"Does that mean just me, Erik, my mother, or all women you can't hypnotize in general?!"

His sad gaze fell to the hard vinyl floor. He hated to see her angry with him, and even as she stood there, her arms now folded securely in place across her chest, Erik was sure that he couldn't just give up seeing this woman, or give up wanting her. As he met her cold gaze, Erik would've given anything to find just a glimmer of the warm tenderness in her chocolate brown eyes, or to feel the tempting softness of her body embracing him.

"Lizzie," he began softly, "I'm sor…"

_I'm sorry_…To Lizzie, those words were like fingernails screeching on a blackboard. She flew at him then like a vicious lioness. She wanted to pound on his chest with her fists for inflicting this cruel attraction on her and haunting her dreams. She wanted to scratch out those incredible blue eyes so they couldn't see straight into her soul, and fill her with endless longings.

Her eyes met his furiously and the words came out in an angry hiss. "Shut up!" Pure adrenaline surged through her, and her pulse raced as she stood before the alarmed masked man. Tightly, her hands gripped his collar as she contemplated choking the life out of him, but of their own accord her lips fastened on to the softness of his.

She couldn't help it. Those brilliant blue eyes had melted her resolve with their sadness, and his sensual lips called out to her without ever saying a word. And before she knew it, her lips had been drawn to his like a magnet. Her eyes had closed, heightening her other senses; to hear the low sensual moan that escaped him, to smell the irresistible masculine scent of his cologne, to feel the erotic promise of his lips, to taste the heated bliss of his tongue. Enticing tingles played about her body, and the power of his electrifying response set Lizzie on fire. Strong and unyielding, she pressed herself up against him, her chest rising and falling against the heavy weight of his coat, pushing him against the edge of the folding table.

Erik was unsure if he was dreaming as he met the angry demand of her lips. The heady lavender scent of her hair filled his nostrils, and he felt intoxicated by the insistent softness of her mouth. His eyes closed as he reveled in her closeness, enraptured by the delightful teasing of her tongue. His hands strayed to hers, releasing their deathly grip on his collar, and entwined his fingers with hers. At any other moment the passionate weight of her against him would have been welcome, but as the edge of the narrow folding table dug painfully into his back, Erik twisted their joined bodies around so that Lizzie was now backed up against the next dryer.

Lizzie gasped as his tall, virile frame powerfully pressed against hers. It was thrilling, and her senses reeled at the innumerable wondrous sensations that possessed her. More passionate than in her dreams, this kiss was unlike anything she'd ever experienced. For the first time in her twenty-nine years she felt alive, and empowered. No longer content to be the one always waiting, Lizzie decided she was in charge of her life now, in charge of her heart, in charge of her body. Unabashedly, she pulled her hands from his, setting them possessively around his neck, and using her weight she twisted their bodies so that his back was up against the dryer. Her heart pounded excitedly, and as his tongue continued to probe and meet hers in an eager caress, her fingers ran playfully through his thick black hair.

His hands had fallen to her back, his fingers leaving goose bumps with every massaging, gripping motion. One hand strayed to the silkiness of her hair, and she could feel the desertion of his lips. As she struggled to catch her breath, Erik trailed her neckline with feverish baby kisses.

"Lizzie," he growled, his voice laced with need.

Her body pressed tighter up against his, and her fingers dug into the long overcoat, battling the hated mass of fabric that lay between Erik and herself. She wanted to be near him, to touch him, to feel him against her.

He could barely think as the blood rushed tremulously through his body. Grabbing her by the waist, he turned their joined bodies once again so that this time her back met with the whirring of the washing machine. His eyes stared in disbelief at the angel in his arms. Her eyes were closed, her lips were slightly swollen from his kisses, and a charming flush of pink had spread to her cheeks. The angst of the last few days, and weeks of boundless attraction and flirtation had led to this. He thought he might have to pinch himself to make himself believe he was not dreaming, but, as it turned out, that didn't prove to be necessary. As Erik lowered his lips to meet hers once again, an agitated pounding on the window effectively jarred them from their embrace.

The two looked up in alarm to meet the disapproving gaze of Lizzie's mother, and the very approving gaze of Erik's friend.

"Get a room!" Nell shouted half-seriously, bringing Erik and Lizzie's awareness back to the very public well-lit laundry room.

Nadir gave a very good-natured thumbs-up to his friend, as Nell shouted an impatient reminder to Lizzie that Frankie would be coming home soon.

Flushed and embarrassed, Lizzie stared in horror as her mother and Nadir walked away, realizing that if they had seen them, then possibly anyone else in the building may have seen them too. As Lizzie turned back to Erik, a little shyly now that they were not engaged in a burst of passion, her eyes fell to his handsome face. His expression was equally humbled, his blue eyes vulnerable, and a sheepish smile curved at Lizzie's lips…

A rich chuckle overcame him as he took Lizzie into his arms once again, enjoying her warmth, and the musical sound of her laughter. It wasn't long, however, before his deep blue eyes pierced her chocolate brown ones, and they found themselves magnetically pulled into another kiss.

Lizzie pulled away hastily, and before she began to voice her protest, Erik raised a graceful hand, and with his two fingers he snapped…

And the light went out.

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

A/N: Just a quick note to thank you all for your feedback. I really do appreciate every single one! Keep it coming:)

**Chapter 22**

Lizzie could have kicked herself.

Frankie had come home after dinner at Catriona's and after she and Erik had parted ways the night before, Lizzie was bubbling over with excitement. Erik had been eager to go tend to some mysterious business at the chip shop, but had been very vague about what he was up to. And as she settled Frankie into bed for the night, her mind and body still tingled from those heated kisses that had managed to set her body on fire. Oddly, her dreams were unusually dull that night and did not include Erik.

Until she finally met him later the next morning, she couldn't wait to be near him again; to smell that irresistible cologne, to lose herself in those seductive blue eyes, to feel the strength of his body pressed against hers…

But, now alone in her flat with him, eager to continue the passion of the night before, she found herself completely lacking her previous confidence. She no longer felt in charge of her body or feelings. And instead of being tempted by his kisses, and the sexual appeal of his gaze, she felt like an inexperienced girl, a nervous virgin, pushing him away as his lips met with her neck once again.

He was puzzled, but remained a gentleman. The last thing he wanted to do was rush her; even though the night before had been like a dream come true. Still, he took her hands in his and set a kiss on the softness of her knuckles.

"We will not do anything you are not ready to do, alright?" he asked, his blue eyes sincerely meeting her nervous gaze.

She nodded her head with relief. "Alright." Feeling like a silly girl, she set a kiss on his cheek and stood from the sofa, grateful for his understanding. "Tea?"

Erik nodded and followed Lizzie as she made her way to the kitchen. She stopped and laced her fingers into his, her eyes curious.

"Tell me what you were doing at the chip shop last night."

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Lizzie asked Erik, a note of concern in her voice, holding his hands tightly in hers. 

"Absolutely," he replied, planting a firm kiss on her lips, reveling again in their rosy sweetness.

Uncomfortably, she pulled away. "I'm not sure this is such a good idea, Erik."

Erik's eyes met the worried look on Lizzie's face, and with a charming smile, he wrapped his arms strongly around her back. "It'll be fine," he assured, squeezing her tightly.

Reluctantly Lizzie pulled from his embrace and accepted the rolled blueprint from his hand. His gaze fell to the back door of Marie's chip shop. He set a gentle kiss upon her cheek, and with catlike stealth, he entered the small restaurant.

Lizzie made her way to the front of the shop and leaned her back against the brick wall of the building, already missing the heavenly warmth of his body, and her arms folded tightly against her chest. It had been a blissful few days since their first kiss, and it seemed when she was not working, and he was not composing, or playing for the band, they spent every possible moment together either in Erik's flat, or in her own. Frankie was quite happy with the arrangement and always looked forward to spending time with Erik.

Her eyes met those of Ricky Munro as he approached. She heaved an anxious sigh as she watched the young blond boy enter her workplace and crossed her fingers.

* * *

Marie's eyes narrowed as the young hoodlum entered her shop. The boy had frequented her shop too often for her taste, and predictably, as he entered, he made a beeline for the restroom. He was trouble, she knew, and on more than one occasion he'd left her shop after stealing a bar of candy, or a pack of gum, and God only knew what else. She was almost positive that he'd been the one responsible for clogging up the toilet in the men's room. What she lacked was proof, and while she would have loved to throw the young troublemaker out on his arse, Ricky Munro's father just happened to be the fire inspector who had threatened to close her shop down.

Ricky Munro rushed across the chip shop, mischief written on his ten-year-old face, and as he opened the door to the restroom, a smile curved at Marie's lips.

* * *

Ricky's fingers flipped on the light switch and quickly locked the door. In the privacy of the small restroom, he sang to himself, his body dancing and hands moving to the rhythm in his head. He made his way into the stall, and reached for the toilet paper, pulling the tissue as he sang until he had a thick roll wrapped around his wrist. After some contemplation he eyed the tissue paper, and decided to yank it from his wrist, and just as he held the thick wad of tissue over the mouth of the toilet, the light went out.

"Hey!" Ricky shouted, annoyed, and wondering how someone had entered the locked men's room.

He stepped forward to exit the stall when the door slammed shut in his face, encasing him inside the stall. "What the hell?" He pounded his elbow on the door and tried shoving it open, but even as he tried using his whole body weight he could not get the door to budge. "Who's there?"

Silence.

Ricky could feel his heart begin to pound as he stood there in the darkness, his brows furrowed suspiciously. His elbow pounded the door again insistently when a low, eerie whisper filled the air.

"_Ricky…"_

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise, and his eyes looked up in the darkness, trying to identify the voice. "Who's there?"

The voice came through again from the opposite side of the room, in a harsh whisper, and the sinister tone caused Ricky to shake. _"Ricky…"_

"Who's there?!" the boy demanded of the thin air up above his head, tingles crawling up his spine.

The door to the stall crashed open, and Ricky dropped the tissue to the floor as he flew through the door, not caring to see who or what was doing this to him. He made his way to the bathroom door when the voice spoke again.

"_Ricky…"_

The boy's fingers undid the lock, and yanked on the door handle, but to his horror, the door would not open, and the menacing voice began to laugh.

Ricky turned around and flipped the light back on, his chest rising and falling as his eyes searched the small room for the owner of the voice, but to his dismay found no one there.

"_What's the matter, Ricky?"_ the voice, low and ominous, taunted from the far corner of the room.

The next thing he heard was the sound of a single snap of the fingers, and then darkness filled the room once more.

Ricky's lip trembled, as his hand reached the handle of the door once again, still yanking on it uselessly. "Leave me alone!" he screamed, tears filling his eyes. His other hand flipped the switch on again, bringing light to the room, and seeing that no one was there, he thought he must have been imagining this…until a cool brush of air swept by him, and the frightful voice whispered in his ear.

"_Do you believe in ghosts?"_

* * *

Cindy tried her best to suppress the giggles that threatened to rack her body as her hands held tight to the handle on the other side of the bathroom door. One side of her face was pressed up against it, her ear trying to pick up every word as the boy on the other side fought for escape.

After finishing with the last of the customers, Marie rushed over to Cindy's side. All of the tables were occupied and Marie was grateful for this rare moment to free herself from the busy counter. She set her eyes on her young blond employee, who was now clamping her mouth shut with one hand while still holding onto the handle with the other.

"What is going on in there?" Marie whispered, not wanting to call the customers' attention to the restroom.

"Oh, he's good," Cindy whispered back, smiling. The strong jiggling of the doorknob prompted the use of her other hand. "He's claiming to be the ghost of Frankie's dead father."

Marie's eyes opened wide and her mouth fell open.

Nodding excitedly, she continued, "He told Ricky that if he ever bothers Frankie again…"

The door was now bouncing hard against the frame and a few of the patrons gazed curiously at Marie. Aware of the dining customers, Cindy finished her sentence in her boss's ear, at which Marie's mouth fell agape, but was soon compelled back to the front counter by the jingling sound of the bell, signaling more customers.

_Two minutes later_…

Watching from the front counter, Marie wore an amused smirk as the boy left the restroom minutes after he'd entered it, screaming bloody murder as he ran. She noticed that his pants were wet…

* * *

Lizzie shook her head in amazement as she watched the young bully flee the chip shop as though the grim reaper was at his heels. Her mind reeled as she pondered what kind of horror Erik could have inflicted on that boy. She stepped inside the chip shop, looking for Erik when he gestured her to the back room. He stood there, dressed all in black, dusty, with cobwebs in his hair, brushing himself off. She caught up with him quickly and gave him a smile as she locked her arms around his waist.

"What did you do to that boy? He ran from here like a bat out of hell," Lizzie remarked, her eyes meeting his with curious admiration, and brushed some dust off his hair.

A smile curved at his lips and he let his arms fall lazily around her shoulders. "Serves him right, I'd say," he replied, his lips pressing against her forehead. It didn't escape him that he hadn't answered her question, as she looked up at him with one eyebrow raised.

"Let's just say that young Ricky Munro will not bother Frankie anymore nor will he set foot in this shop ever again."

She nestled her head on his shoulder happily, satisfied with his answer, at the same time not wanting to know the details of what exactly had taken place. "Thank you," she said softly, looking up into his deep blue eyes, feeling a little weak in the knees.

"Thank you," Marie said with a chuckle, clapping her hands together as she observed the couple embracing in the back room. "That must have been some show in there, Erik. Are you hungry? Let me get you some fish…"

"That sounds perfect, Marie," Lizzie told her. "I'm starving." Her hand gripped Erik's and she attempted to pull him toward the tables. "We can sit and talk…"

His feet stayed firmly planted on the floor. "Do you mind if we take it to go?" he asked uneasily.

Marie's gaze went from Erik to Lizzie. "Sure thing," she replied, heading back to the front counter.

Lizzie quickly picked up the slight flush on the left side of his face. "What's wrong, Erik?"

"I think I'd be more…comfortable eating at home."

Her fingers squeezed his tightly. "It's alright, you know, I don't think you or the fact that you wear a mask are any big secret anymore, Erik. Especially not the way news travels around this town."

As he sighed, his eyes met hers. "It is still difficult for me, Lizzie, to be out in public…and I think it will be difficult for you to be there with me."

"That's rubbish, Erik," she insisted, unable to keep her fingers from running through his thick black hair. "But, I won't press it…for now."

Marie emerged with two Styrofoam containers; a large happy face was drawn on the top.

"Enjoy. Oh and by the way, Erik," she paused meeting his gaze with a playful wink. "Thanks for the clapper."

* * *

"I'm so happy that we stayed in, Erik," Lizzie told him, her fingers holding the last of his chips teasingly above his open mouth.

Sitting side by side on Lizzie's sofa, their feet were on her coffee table, and her body leaned against his as she dangled the fried potato just above his reach. With a growl his chin tilted upward, and the chip fell horizontally into his mouth, but a small blob of ketchup landed just above his lip on his mask. The smile faded from her face as she took a napkin and dabbed at the white surface carefully. His hand had risen as his first impulse was to stop her, but her maternal instinct had proved too quick, and as adorable as she looked, her tongue set against her lip as she wiped at the small spot of red sauce, Erik felt compelled to take her hand in his.

The laughter had disappeared from his eyes, and as he moved their hands down to his lap, Lizzie was reminded of how sensitive he was about the mask. Nevertheless she wanted to show him that the mask didn't bother her. She brought his hand to her lips, and set a gentle kiss on his knuckle, and scooting in closer to him, she nestled her head into his shoulder.

His arm came to rest around her shoulder, and he squeezed her tightly into his embrace, heaving a sad sigh. _She must be an angel_, he thought. Lizzie was his angel, perfect and patient, and willing to accept his imperfections.

"Will you compose tonight?" she asked, stirring him from his thoughts.

"I might if Nadir isn't hanging around the flat."

Lizzie's eyes turned upward. "Your friend and my mother have been spending a lot of time together."

"I don't know how much longer I can take it. Nadir SINGS now…all the time, in the shower, in the kitchen, while I'm trying to write!"

A chuckle took hold of Lizzie. "And my mother's impossible! She's always smiling, runs around the flat like a chicken with her head cut off, she's hardly ever home anymore, and I think she's even cut back on her smoking."

Erik smiled. "I think they've gone mad."

"I think so too," Lizzie agreed.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, as both sat side by side, Lizzie became preoccupied with trying to cut through the uneasy quiet.

"So," she began lightly, squeezing his hand again, "Marie says that you don't sing in the band. Is that because you can't or don't want to?"

Erik turned to face her. "That's quite a question."

"It is?"

"For me."

"Well, no matter, we don't have to talk about that. Let's talk about what you will do once you've finished this piece you're working on," Lizzie suggested, content with a subject that seemed as safe as any.

It was quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

"I know what we can talk about."

Lizzie sighed happily, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. "What?"

He swallowed hard, and his voice came in a whisper. "We can…talk about the mask."

She involuntarily leaned forward, surprised as she looked at him. His eyes were clouded with vulnerability, and as badly as she wanted to know, she could instinctively feel how difficult this was for him. "Yes. There's always that."

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N:** Happy Thanksgiving! Just a warning- this chapter is dark, and the only one that will be, so please hang in there with me and review!

**Chapter 23**

He was forbidden to speak of it…period.

Thirteen-year-old Erik trudged the half-mile distance home from the bus stop, his heart heavy again, as the tragic events of the day before hit him with the force of a freight train. It had been easy not to think about it during school; his mind was occupied with class work and day-to-day activities. But now, with each step, he had time to recall the ugly reality, to realize that life as he knew it was over...and that nothing would ever be the same again.

He hadn't even been able to share this tragedy with Reza, his only friend, but what did it matter now, he thought glumly. In a few days Reza would be headed back to Iran, and Erik would be left behind.

The wind swept westward and Erik bundled up in his coat while the crisp fall leaves swirled and swayed through the autumn air. His feet stepped heavily on the pavement as he recalled coming home the day before.

The whole thing had been odd, and as he stepped inside his house he could feel something was very wrong, he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. As usual, Erik's father, Charles had been at work at the promising architectural firm, but when he came home, his mother, Madeline was not in the kitchen preparing dinner as she did, day after day. Indeed it was peculiar, and instead of heading to the music room to practice the piano, Erik had gone in search of her.

Madeline was his mother in nearly every way possible. She had given birth to him, she'd clothed him, and fed him, and seen to his every need. And when he spoke to her, sharing the day's events or his recent compositions, she always had a kind smile on her lovely face. But, as Erik had realized time and time again, the woman he called 'Mother' was like a robot, devoid of any expression of love or emotions. Charles, formidable and stern, had but one weakness- his love for Madeline. With his voice he had used, manipulated, and molded her for many years into the perfect wife and mother. For as long as Erik could remember, she always had a smile on her face, but her ocean blue eyes seemed to be glazed over, and although Erik had known what his father had done to her was wrong, he felt helpless to do anything about it. Although there appeared to be no love or affection behind those eyes, he, like his father was content; Madeline was always a comforting presence in the eye of Charles' stormy moods.

In his mind's eye he could see her, lying in bed as though asleep, when he'd come home from school. It was at that moment, standing at her doorway when Erik knew. Even before he had come to her side and his eyes met the crimson that had leaked onto the bedding and crème colored carpeting, Erik had known.

Desperate to escape her husband's mind control, Madeline had come to long enough to take her own life.

The screams of anguish as Charles found his wife would haunt Erik for years to come. Helpless, Erik confined himself to his room, trying to compose, trying vainly to shut out the horror of what he had found upstairs. Erik knew that they should have called for an ambulance, or the police…or someone, but instead he allowed his father the opportunity to grieve.

That night after Charles finally emerged from his bedroom, his deep blue eyes were tinged with red, and he appeared to have aged twenty years as he growled to his son, "Tell no one."

Erik usually accepted everything his father said, but in the wake of this tragedy found the strength to protest, "But, Father…"

Charles grabbed his son by the shoulders and shoved him hard against the wall. "Tell no one."

He was almost home. Heaving a sigh, Erik's eyes found his father's car in the driveway as he approached their house. His backpack felt like a ton of bricks on his shoulders, and as he opened the front door, he felt another strange sense of foreboding.

Erik hadn't known what to expect or how he would find his father after what had happened the day before. It wasn't unusual that he was home, possibly making the necessary arrangements for a funeral…but as Erik walked in, his father greeted him with an odd smile that made chills run down his spine. His jet-black hair was uncombed, his disheveled clothing was what he had worn the day before, and he had bags under his eyes. The man seemed to be in unusually good spirits, and Erik could tell by the smell of his breath that his father had been drinking.

Silently he was gestured off to practice the piano, and to his horror, found his mother lying in the music room like Sleeping Beauty, dozens of candles lit all around her. It was eerie and beautiful at the same time. A great candelabrum sat atop the glossy surface of the grand piano. His mother had always been very fond of candles… Young Erik's mouth fell open as he approached what appeared to be a shrine sitting atop a pedestal beside the large instrument. In disbelief, his eyes took in the sight of his deceased mother as she lay stiffly in a wooden box that Charles must have fashioned himself, lined with red silk sheets. Her clothes had been changed, and laying there the way she was in a long white dress, she reminded him of an angel. Her long dark wavy hair draped past her shoulders, and her porcelain skin looked pale, her closed eyes sunk in slightly, and to his surprise, a bit of rouge had been applied to her cheeks, and lipstick to her ordinarily rosy lips. If he had not known better, he might have thought her to be sleeping, and his gaze trailed down to her wrists in search of the gashes he found the day before, only to find them covered by several bracelets. Shaking his head, he carefully backed away from the lit candles and the makeshift casket, the thumping of his heart echoing in his ears.

"Play for her."

It was not the first time he had suspected that his father was insane, but now he knew it without a doubt. Erik felt his entire body stiffen. Clearly, it was not a request, as Charles' gruff voice resounded throughout the room like a haunting echo. Fighting back tears, Erik turned weakly to his father who stood threateningly at the doorway.

"But…"

"Play…for…her."

The boy's eyes wandered to the smooth ivory keys that he'd always found so much enjoyment playing. _He is insane_. Settling himself on the bench, Erik's fingers rose above the keys, but in an instant of hesitation, he shot up from his seated position, and met his father's eyes. "She's dead, Father."

A flicker of fire lit the man's deep blue eyes, and Erik saw a dangerous smile curve at his lips.

"That's ridiculous, Erik. She is sleeping," he told the boy calmly, walking towards him. "Now play for her. You know how much your mother loves to hear you play."

Miserably, he turned back to the box that held the woman who had given him birth. She was dead, Erik knew for certain, because when he had held her yesterday there had been no breath coming from her mouth, no heartbeat, no pulse…

Erik felt like a caged animal; he wanted to run from this place, but there was no escape as his father advanced on him like a madman. His tall frame loomed over Erik, and his eyes were turning angry…

"Play."

The thirteen-year-old boy's brows furrowed as he sat back down on the bench. He shut his eyes for just a moment, biting his lip to keep it from trembling. Taking a breath, he willed himself to play, earnestly hoping that the music would envelop him in its comforting embrace. Automatically his fingers played, and as Erik had hoped he was soon entranced by the notes, losing himself in the calming melody, and for those endless moments he may have been able to ignore the insanity that called to him until his father's voice commanded again.

"Now, sing for your mother, Erik."

His fingers hit a wrong note in response, and suddenly he felt his whole body go limp. Charles had been aware of his son's singing ability. In school, his teachers had likened that voice to an angel's, and rather than being pleased with this compliment, Erik had felt an irrational need to guard it; that it was something very special, and very private, and the one thing that neither his father nor anyone else could command or possess. When asked to sing in the choir, Erik flatly refused. He was determined that his voice would not be forced, and had endured years worth of beatings protecting it. Amongst all the tangible objects that Erik treasured, they paled in comparison to the non-tangible instrument that he had within himself. He needed one thing, this thing to be his very own. But, as his father stood over him, his eyes wild with madness, Erik felt he had no other choice. He cast his eyes sidelong at his mother's body, staring at her lifeless figure, trying uselessly to will her back to life somehow so that she could stop this madness, when the sharp blow of Charles' fist banged on the piano top, nearly knocking over the candelabra.

"Sing!" he demanded.

Erik's eyes fell closed again as he felt dread overcome every bone in his body. For all of his thirteen years he'd managed to refuse his father this demand, and had paid dearly for it, but now, as his lips parted hesitantly, a soft whisper-like tone flowed from his mouth. Each note was perfection, the pitch flawless, and the melodious harmony so beautiful that it may have come from heaven itself…

…and with each note, Erik's spirit fell deeper into the depths of hell. With each measure, his soul was raped and plundered.

"Louder!"

Pure hatred surged through the boy as his eyes met his father's, finding a perverse smile across his hard cruel lips. Erik shook his head wildly in denial and sprang from the piano bench; the loud thud of the wooden bench hitting the tiled floor was the only sound that was heard.

Charles was suddenly behind his son, having moved like a cloud of smoke. He grasped the boy's arms behind his back, forcing his chin to the piano top, his voice insistent. "You will sing louder, Erik."

Erik struggled against the iron of Charles' grip around his wrists, his shoulders and back wriggling furiously to escape, pleading with his father for release. His chin dug painfully into the glossy finish, and with all of his might, his body twisted and pulled, causing the instrument to shake. It happened so quickly, that as the candelabra fell over and the flames from the candles ignited his right cheek, his brain had not yet registered the pain. The awful stench of burning skin penetrated his senses, and his now agonized cries invoked no reaction from his father. The flames spread rapidly, licking furiously and spreading towards his eyelid and forehead like fiery tongues. His right eye shut tightly as he felt the flame singe his lashes, and at that moment, Erik successfully wrestled his right arm free from the madman's grasp, shoving the candelabra away from his face, involuntarily landing it into his mother's makeshift coffin. His other hand was freed as Charles frantically rushed to the flames that threatened his dead mother's feet.

Not wasting any time, Erik seized the opportunity for escape, trying to ignore the blinding hot pain as he ran to the door. His hands seized the doorknob, furiously twisting and turning the locked handle, praying for God to help him, when he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head… and then everything went black.

It could have been minutes, or hours, possibly days that passed while Erik found himself in and out of a drug-induced haze. One moment he could feel the wicked sting from his burns, the next, in a state of semi-consciousness, he could hear the distant remorseful murmuring of his father, his slender fingers tracing the injured flesh. The boy lacked the strength or will to question it, his body too weak to fight, his mind lazy, and at this point the numbness was a great comfort. In another lucid moment as Erik's mind struggled for consciousness, his eyes moved heavily back and forth under closed lids, and his ears registered the quick footsteps of his father. His nose picked up a strange yet familiar smell that seemed very close to his face and small wisps of steam floated across his skin, like smoke from a candle. His brain placed that smell - it was a mixture that Charles had invented himself, and had once shown to Erik. A blend of polymer, rubber, and plaster were boiled in a pot along with some chemicals, then were poured onto the blank face of a mannequin so that a pliable, realistic countenance could be formed. If he had the sense to put two and two together, he might have realized that Charles intended to cover Erik's wounds with this boiling, hot mixture. His mind still fought for consciousness, and to his dismay the fiery stinging returned with a vengeance. His heart was pounding and his breathing became ragged. His whole body came awake, his first impulse to soothe the pain with his hand, only to discover that his hands were tied. His two blue eyes blinked furiously as he looked up at his father, the image clouded, and like it was a bad dream, thick scalding liquid was poured lightly onto his charred flesh, melting it and melding permanently to the raw tissues. Erik cried out in pure agony as the mixture scorched and seared, practically bubbling on his face. His whole body struggled uselessly, as he discovered that his torso was bound tightly to the table on which he lay, and his feet were tied together at the ankles. His head struggled against the painful intrusion of the compound, his eyes meeting the eerie calm of his father's expression as he quickly set the pot down, and grasped a small cloth. In that instant he reminded Erik of Dr. Frankenstein. With one swift movement, his father's gloved hand covered the boy's nostrils and mouth with the cloth, and instantly Erik lost consciousness once again.

He didn't know what time it was when he came to, only that he was in his bed, and he sat up, his heart pounding. It was dark, and the memories flooded back to him, filling his heart with heaviness. He didn't have any feeling on the right side of his face. _Maybe it was all a nightmare_, he thought. His hand flew to his cheek, again there was no sensation, but oddly, his fingers met the flesh-like substance that covered his cheek and a small part of his forehead just above his eyebrow. He flicked on the lamp on the nightstand, and as quickly as his wobbly legs would carry him, rushed to the bathroom mirror. His eyes met with horror the reflection of himself, in place of the burnt, mangled flesh, was a white mask.

* * *

"So, it doesn't come off?" Lizzie asked softly, her eyes teary as she looked up at him. With every excruciating detail, she had felt the sorrow as he recounted it. 

He looked down. "No."

"What happened next?"

Erik breathed a sigh, already emotionally exhausted from his traumatic explanation. "My room was locked, so I jumped from my window, spraining my ankle. From the garbage can, I pulled out one of my father's vodka bottles, and in the garage I located some gasoline, and some matches…" he paused, his eyes distant, as though he was watching the scene play in his head. "I lit the bottle, and tossed it into the front window. The curtains immediately caught fire, and when I limped away, I never looked back."

Lizzie watched with wide eyes, barely able to conceive of these extraordinary experiences from Erik's past. She threw herself into his arms and held tight to him, her fingers caressing his head comfortingly, wishing with all of her heart that she could soothe him.

A thought occurred to her, and she pulled slightly away to face him. "What happened to your father, Erik? Is he ali-"

Shaking his head, his expression was blank as though she were referring to a stranger. "I don't know."

"You were only thirteen years old. How did you survive?"

"Nadir had a friend at the SIS who managed to obtain special clearance for me to travel, and he saw to it that I boarded that plane with Reza…"

"And stayed in Iran," she finished, sitting back on the sofa cushions. There were still questions she wanted to ask, but she held back, seeing the hard set of his jaw, and the sadness in his eyes.

His gaze met Lizzie's, and though he could see the heavy weight he'd placed on her, he forced a smile and took her hands in his. "The rest, Lizzie, I prefer not to share. My past …is not something I care to think about anymore. It has taken years for me to heal from it."

Lizzie couldn't help but feel a pang of unhappiness. His past was his past, and like it or not, she was going to have to deal with the fact that there were things he didn't want her to know. Although, she did have to admit that he had already confided some very painful and tragic memories. His eyes begged for understanding and hesitantly she nodded.

Her fingers trembled as they rose to his mask slowly, her eyes seeking his permission, and she drew a strong breath as his hand guided her to it. Her heart was in her throat, as she realized how difficult this must have been for him. As her fingers met with the fleshy covering, she was amazed at how life-like it felt.

He held his breath in apprehension as her fingers curiously ran up and down the mask, pressing lightly, testing the rubber-like covering. The whole evening had been surreal for Erik, as he suspected that his past might scare her away, but those chocolate brown eyes that he'd come to adore only looked up at him with compassion and affection, and as Lizzie set her sweet lips to that hated part of his face, his heart was filled with joy.

* * *


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"And so, it doesn't come off."

Nell looked at her daughter with wide brown eyes across the kitchen table. "Well, how the hell did that happen?" she asked, sipping her tea.

Lizzie rubbed at her wet hair with a towel. "I told you already, Ma, I'm not going to tell you how he got the mask. It's… personal and I don't think Erik would appreciate it if I went around telling everyone about it."

There was a knock at the door and Lizzie answered it without surprise. "Good morning, Nadir," she greeted pleasantly, gesturing him inside to the kitchen.

"It is a beautiful morning, isn't it?"

She smiled at his usual cheery demeanor. "It certainly is. Tea?"

Rising from her chair, Nell's eyes lit up as Nadir entered the kitchen, allowing him to set the customary kiss on her cheek. "Good morning, handsome," she greeted, pulling a chair out for him to sit.

Lizzie filled a cup for Nadir. "Is Erik up?"

The olive-skinned man shook his head. "He had a late night. He finally finished that composition he was working on."

Lizzie's face lit up at Erik's achievement. She couldn't help the burst of pride she felt.

The older woman's head shook, still confused with the information her daughter had shared. "It doesn't make sense, Lizzie. In this day and age, he could have the mask removed. A plastic surgeon could rebuild his face."

Nadir opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Lizzie's words as she sat down to join them.

"He didn't say so, but I think he doesn't want to look anything like his father. He hated the man," she told her matter-of-factly, lifting her tea to her lips.

"But still," Nell argued, brows furrowed, looking from Nadir to her daughter. "He wouldn't have to look like his father. He could look like Michael bloody Jackson if he wanted!"

Lizzie opened her mouth, but didn't have an answer. The image itself that Nell had presented gave her a shudder.

"If I may," Nadir interjected, "I think I can help you with that," he told them with a smile. "I'm afraid our Erik has an irrational fear of doctors, probably derived from his father."

"So, he's lived all these years without getting sick, or breaking a bone…" Nell asked incredulously.

Lizzie cut in, "Or immunizations, or-"

"Erik's philosophy is that the body will heal itself with the aid of natural remedies. Since he left for Iran, he wouldn't allow anyone to do something for him that he could not do himself. He has picked up the skills from healers. As you have probably learned by now, Lizzie, Erik is quite resourceful."

"So I've learned," she agreed, taking a big sip from her teacup.

"By the way," Nadir asked, his eyes searching the living room. "Is Frankie around? I've grown rather fond of the young man and wanted to tell him goodbye."

Lizzie swallowed the tea in her mouth, keeping it from spitting out. "You're leaving?" she asked, her eyes wide with shock, her gaze darting back and forth from her mum to Nadir.

"Only for a couple of weeks. I have a flat in London, and have some business to take care of. I've really enjoyed our visits and didn't want to leave without saying goodbye."

"Frankie's in school, but I'll tell him. When are you leaving?" Lizzie asked him, surprised that her mother hadn't mentioned it. She felt an awful feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach, and if this was unpleasant for her, she could only imagine how her mother must be feeling. Her gaze found her mother's hand wrapped tightly in Nadir's.

"This afternoon and I think Erik will be happy to be rid of me."

"I'm sure that's not true," Lizzie assured him. "You'll definitely be missed." Lizzie noticed that her mother certainly had a somber look about her, although she hid it with a smile. Lizzie was aware how much she'd grown to care for her new beau.

"It's just for a couple of weeks," Nell said in an unusually cheery voice. "He'll be back before we know it."

Lizzie forced a smile, hoping that indeed would be the case.

* * *

The sun looked like a bright yellow circle, illuminating the sky with a brilliant orange glow, shining the deep blue waters with glimmering hues of purple. 

He heaved a long sigh, his gaze focused absently on the colorful setting, Frankie's letter secure in his grasp. The tranquil sounds of the ocean filled his ears and a cool breeze nipped at his neck. He pulled his jacket closed and his elbows hugged the long railing.

"What do ya call dead sailors that plunder the seas at sunset?"

From his leaning position, Patrick's attention focused upward to his curly-haired friend, slightly startled by his sudden appearance. A half smile formed at his lips. "I give up."

"Vampirates," Bob replied, his brown eyes twinkling at his own amusement, snorting loudly as he laughed.

A low chuckle escaped Patrick's lips as he faced his bunkmate. "Well, Bob," he laughed, shaking his head, "I'm sure not going to miss those jokes."

Bob joined Patrick as their gaze turned to the vast palette of blue, the laughter having faded like a puff of smoke. "We're just hours from Glasgow now," Bob said, his expression thoughtful.

With a nod, Patrick absently ran a thumb along the envelope in his hand. Little did he know that Bob was quick to pick up this unconscious action. There wasn't a person in the world who knew Patrick better than Bob.

"So are ya regretting not sending that letter now, Pat?"

Patrick cast a sidelong gaze at his friend. He hated that Bob always seemed to know what he was thinking. "What I'm regretting, Bob, is that ya can't mind yer own business."

"Aw, c'mon now. You've got a folder full of letters to Frankie and Lizzie and ya didn't send a single one. Why?"

With a sigh, his turquoise eyes met the waves that jutted endlessly throughout the choppy waters. "I lied to Frankie and pretended to be someone I wasn't."

"Yah, but he knew. He told you as much in his letter, saying that his real da passed away."

"Still… I think about Frankie and Lizzie everyday. Sometimes across miles and miles of ocean I swear I could feel Lizzie's eyes reaching out to me." Patrick turned to his friend, shrugging his shoulders. "But, it was all a lie. The whole weekend was one big lie."

"Then why can't you stop thinking about them?" Bob's eyes watched his friend turn away from him. "Doesn't make a damn bit of sense not sending those letters, Pat. Yer lucky I didn't get it in my mind to send them myself."

"It's a right good thing ya didn't," Patrick told his friend, with one eyebrow raised, quickly turning back to meet his gaze.

"Really?" Bob replied in a challenging tone. "Why's that now?"

"Because that water's coooold."

Good naturedly, Bob hugged himself in an exaggerated mock shiver. "So have ya decided yet if yer sailing out with me again in two days?"

Patrick fell silent for a moment, his gaze falling to Frankie's letter in both hands. His index finger traced the letters of the boy's name. "I haven't decided yet."

* * *

With a proud smile, Lizzie held up her champagne flute, her eyes meeting Erik's deep blue ones. "I'd like to toast to…finishing your composition." 

A pleased smile graced his lips, and he raised his own flute to meet hers. "To finishing my composition," he repeated, meeting her glass with a clink. It had taken months of hard work, and until they shared their first kiss did he finally discover the motivation to complete it.

"It's a beautiful piece, Erik. I'm sure you won't have any trouble getting it published," Lizzie told him sincerely, linking her arm through his. "And even if doesn't happen right away then all you need is to keep trying…"

Erik interrupted her, a sheepish look in his eyes. "I have a confession, Lizzie."

Lizzie took a sip of the bubbly, and set her flute down on his coffee table. "What is it?"

"I've composed many pieces and almost all of them are published."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He nodded, suddenly ashamed that he had not shared this with her before. "They were published under a pseudonym."

One eyebrow shot up at him disbelievingly. "An then yer arse fell off?"

"No, seriously. My music has been published."

Wide eyed, she could hardly believe what he was telling her. The elegant man that lived below her was an artist, had worked as an architect, a talented piano player, amongst his many other talents, and now he was telling her that he was an accomplished composer. Her eyes turned from his cerulean gaze to his flat filled with expensive furnishings. It still didn't make sense.

"But, you live _here_?" she asked, her finger pointing downward.

With a smile, Erik took her hand in his. "Yes, I live here. You see, this was only meant to be a temporary arrangement."

Lizzie felt her heart pounding in her throat, her eyes searching his wildly for explanation.

"When I left the SIS, I had not officially retired. I was believed to be under a very strict contract, however, I needed to get out of that line of work, and I moved about from country to country, always trying to stay low key, and not attract attention. But Nadir has since informed me that they aren't looking for me anymore. I have the means to live quite comfortably and work only if I choose, and now I have the freedom to move wherever I want," he explained.

"But, you're still here?"

He brought her knuckles to his lips and set a soft kiss upon them, his eyes meeting the uncertainty in her chocolate brown gaze. "I'm still here. This is home for me right now."

A smile formed on Lizzie's lips. "We came here because we were hiding from Frankie's father, and now that he's gone, I haven't thought about leaving. This is the first time I've been able to call a place home in a very long time." It was the truth. For as long as she could remember, Lizzie had lived day to day, never giving serious thought to the future. She remembered telling Marie that she didn't want the job at the chip shop because she wouldn't be there very long. Sure this building was run down, and her flat was constantly requiring some type of repair, but for now, she wouldn't dream of leaving.

Erik could go anywhere in the world, but here in Glasgow, he'd found a life, and friends, and Lizzie. Happily, he lifted his champagne glass. "I'd like to make a toast." He waited as she lifted her flute. "To home."

Her flute met his with a gentle clink. "To home."

* * *

Marie grimaced as she lifted the large, awkward box and set it down behind the front counter. "And this one." 

Lizzie had just unpacked and stocked the contents of one box, and here Marie had just brought her two more. She felt slightly overwhelmed as Marie turned and headed to the back room to continue her inventory. Her gaze fell to the two unopened boxes, and with a sigh she took her box cutter and reached for the larger of the two. Bent over, she cut into the seam, struggling with the far end of the package, the rustling of the cardboard nearly drowning out the sound of the bell jingling.

Lifting the flaps, she glared at the cartons of cigarettes, trying to figure out where to store them.

"Hello, Lizzie."

Her heart skipped a beat, feeling giddy that her masked boyfriend had come to visit her there, with all of his anxiety of public places. She turned around, a wide grin on her face. "Hello," she greeted, but as her eyes met the bluish-green gaze of the man on the other side of the counter, she felt all the color drain from her body.

Marie's voice rattled Lizzie's nerves, as it called out loudly from the doorway. "Patrick!" she yelled, sticking her pencil over her ear, and running to her sibling. "I can't believe you're here!"

* * *

Hidden and unseen, his sharp blue eyes spied through the window, first observing Marie's excited expression as she embraced the man who had just entered. Lizzie, he noticed, had appeared as though she had just seen a ghost. But as he watched a smile curve at her sweet lips, and the rosy blush that was claiming her cheeks, he only watched curiously. Her eyes danced as she spoke to him, and her fingers absently twisted a lock of her silky brown hair. It was a flirtatious gesture that Lizzie used many times with Erik, and as he watched her carry on with this man whom Erik decided was definitely not a patron, he felt the blood in his body run hot with jealousy. He finally was able to get a good look at the man, to see him standing tall and confident, his eyes set upon Lizzie with open admiration, his smile wickedly charming as he spoke, and his perfect face- handsome and unmarred. And to his horror, he realized who the man was, judging by the alarming resemblance to the left side of his face, Erik knew without a doubt. 

He was the stranger.

* * *

A/N: I set up a poll on my profile page because I want to know who YOU think Lizzie should choose, so please vote...and don't forget to review! 


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Lizzie certainly had not expected this.

But, there he was, standing across from her, just like in her dreams. His dark hair had grown out just a bit, a touch of grey kissing his temples, teeth gleaming white as he smiled, his tanned face as devastatingly handsome as she remembered, and those turquoise eyes seemed to magically transport her back to that night when they danced to her favorite song. She could still remember how it felt when he held her in his strong, capable arms. He stood there, on the other side of the counter, tall and confident, his hands tucked securely in the pockets of his black leather jacket.

_His name was Patrick…_

Suddenly Lizzie wasn't sure about anything.

Watching the easy interaction between Marie and her brother, she suddenly found her mind riddled with questions. First and foremost: why hadn't he written back? As badly as she wanted to know, she knew that here in the chip shop was not the time or place. It was deeply disconcerting to Lizzie that after all this time this man still had an effect on her. Her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own. Lizzie heard herself thanking him for sending back the letters.

Warmth filled her body as he inquired about Frankie. This man, Patrick, wanted to see him, wanted to tell the boy himself that he genuinely enjoyed their time together. He had even picked up another gift for her son...

Showered by mixed feelings, she heard herself say that they would meet back at the chip shop after Frankie came home from school. Marie had moved to the back room, and that was when Patrick asked if Lizzie would meet him privately…and she had agreed. So it was settled, the following morning at the coffeehouse where they had first met, she planned to get some of her questions answered.

It was harmless, after all.

At least that's what Lizzie told herself.

* * *

What he wouldn't do for some morphine… 

It was almost too painful to watch.

Cleverly disguised, Erik sat at the table closest to the window of the chip shop, holding up a newspaper to hide his face. The threesome were seated feet from where he sat, and in bitter disgust he watched the charming scene unfold before his very eyes.

Lip reading- it was another of Erik's very useful skills. It had served him well when he worked for the SIS, observing his subjects from a distance.

That morning, Erik had learned of Lizzie's and Frankie's afternoon plans, and to his absolute horror, of the rendezvous she and that despicable Patrick person had planned for the following morning. The fact that Erik was eavesdropping was of no consequence to him. His heart had already been broken once before, and this time he was determined not to play the fool. So after hours in front of his mirror, tending to the lengthy process of painstakingly applying makeup to his mask, and temporarily gluing a dark brown mustache and beard, he looked with approval at the reflection, certain that he would not be recognized. A baseball hat completed his casual ensemble of faded jeans and a bulky corduroy jacket.

If Nadir had been there, he would have advised Erik to trust Lizzie, and not to follow her like some deranged stalker. Then he would not subject himself to the torture of seeing their happy smiles, and he wouldn't be there at this very moment to witness his young friend's face light up with recognition as he saw the stranger's face. Erik wouldn't have to feel the painful wrenching of his gut as Frankie threw himself into the man's embrace, or just to sit there bearing witness to the easy conversation Lizzie and Patrick enjoyed as the boy's eager eyes met the glossy pages of the new book the man had given him. To an outsider they might have appeared as the perfect little family, Marie joining them at the table and laughing at a comment her brother had just made. However, as his narrowed eyes roamed their smiling expressions, Erik thought he might become physically ill, fighting back the bile that was trying to force its way upward through his body.

It was a most bitter realization that the resemblance to this man was what had drawn Lizzie to Erik in the first place, she had said so when they had first met in that bar, and now that the stranger was back, Erik could feel that familiar anxiety from when Christine left him. Once again that sickening, heart-pounding, chest constricting feeling was back; wave after wave of dread and fear washed violently over his body, and Erik tried desperately to steady his breathing. The way he saw it, he stood to lose the people in his life he held most dear.

It was Lizzie's choice and hers alone, and if she chose Patrick, Erik would not interfere.

There was always the mask to consider. The thought made Erik cringe. How would Frankie's peers react to the mask? What kind of future could they possibly have? Like Christine, he only wanted happiness for her, and would not deprive Frankie and Lizzie of a normal family life. The more Erik studied the man's handsome features, the more he felt he was destined to be alone…

Indeed, it was Lizzie's choice…

…but he was not ready to give up just yet.

* * *

It had taken considerably less time to remove the disguise and makeup than it had taken to apply. Faintly, he could hear the double set of footsteps ascending the stairwell. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't storm right up to see her. He had to think this out. Erik scrubbed at the makeup which was already making his face itchy. He needed to see Lizzie, and talk to her, and perhaps confess his true feelings… 

His palms began to sweat at just the thought, and his mind screamed warnings not to repeat the same mistake…

But, if he didn't he might lose her. _No, it was too risky_, his mind argued. After pouring out his heart and soul, he stood to lose her anyway. Desperately, he searched his brain. He had to see Lizzie before morning. _It had to be tonight_.

* * *

She took a breath, before answering the door. It was Erik. She could feel that it was he as though they shared some sort of telepathic connection. Her hand opened the door slowly, and only wide enough to poke her head through. To her surprise, her handsome masked man stood there with a bouquet of red roses in hand with a single black ribbon tied around the stems. 

"Hello, Lizzie," he greeted, a nervous smile on his face. "These are for you."

At that moment she wished that he wasn't so thoughtful. "They're beautiful," she replied with an uncertain smile, reaching out for the fragrant bouquet.

She did not invite him in.

Erik cleared his throat, uncomfortably tucking his empty hands in his pockets as he watched her bring the flowers to her nose. "I thought that maybe I could order Italian food for us tonight."

Lizzie quickly shook her head. "I'm sorry, Erik, I'm just not feeling well right now. I was planning on going straight to bed."

"Is there anything I can do? If you tell me what's bothering you, I probably have something in my flat that will help," he offered quickly, his heart sinking at her unreceptiveness.

"That's very sweet, but I think all I need is sleep."

"How about I make you breakfast tomorrow?" he asked, in an attempt to stray her from her plans, watching her eyes carefully for a response.

Her eyes seemed to look right past him. "I…in the morning…I… have to talk to Frankie's teacher," she lied, knots twisting and tangling in her stomach.

"I see," he replied, disappointed that she had lied to him, helpless that he could do nothing about it. As tempted as he was to force his way in and demand the truth, he knew that in matters like these a confrontation was likely to end badly. His heart weighed like an anvil in his chest, and his true feelings stayed buried and suppressed inside his mouth. Resigned, he turned from her then, moving toward the steps, his brows furrowed sadly. "I hope you feel better."

In a flash she reached his hand, stopping him in his tracks. "Thank you, Erik," she said, squeezing his hand. Slowly she set a kiss on his masked cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

His eyes looked uncertainly up at hers. Her face had looked tired, and her kiss, although subtle had shown him a small ray of light. _Tomorrow afternoon_…he would see her then. "Good night, Lizzie," he said, turning away from her once more, moving toward the stairwell.

"Good night."

Shutting the door, Lizzie's head spun like a whirlwind. She had never been so confused in her life. In fact, she had avoided seeing Erik for just that reason, hoping to sort out her feelings. Frankie and her mother were eating supper as Lizzie bade them goodnight. She had told the truth about not feeling well. Her head had been pounding ever since she and Frankie left the chip shop. Sleep was what she needed, and as she made her way to her bedroom, she longed for the comfort of her bed. All the puzzling thoughts and feelings from today rushed back at her like a raging flood, and as she opened her bedroom door her eyes found the CD player. Night after night for weeks she had played that song that both soothed and tortured her at the same time. It reminded her of him, of Patrick, and although she had not played it for several weeks, she suddenly felt herself drawn to the portable device. Hesitantly her finger met the play button, and as the opening music wafted through the room, tears began to fill her eyes.

* * *

As soon as Erik heard the familiar tune, he felt both sad and hopeful at the same time. Quickly he made his way to the piano, but as his fingers moved to touch the keys, ready to play the song that soothed her, an idea hit him with cannon-like force. Taking a deep breath, he stretched out his knuckles. Sitting up nice and tall on his bench, he summoned all his courage. 

He knew it from memory, every sentimental note, every wistful lyric…and now he was going to play it for her.

* * *

In wonder, Lizzie sat up in her bed as she heard the music from the piano playing downstairs. _No, it couldn't be_, she thought. Her finger absently pressed the off button, but to her surprise the beloved tune continued. It was not the hypnotic melody that Erik had played for her so many times before. No, it was _her_ song, "The Great White Horse" whose notes emerged soulfully from below, ringing out sweet and crystal clear. As with everything Erik did, he played it to perfection, as though he'd played it a thousand times before. Shivers ran through her body, and she sat frozen in her bed, her spirit lifted by his gesture. Her mouth fell agape, and it was then that she heard his voice come to life. 

"_When I was a young man, I used to dream of a maiden, with long, soft hair blowing in the wind. Her laughing eyes and loving arms would follow when I'd sail around the world and back again._"

Never had she heard a voice more beautiful, or rich. She was mesmerized by the smooth, unearthly timbre, his gentle tenor pleaded and tugged at her soul with every word.

"_And I'd ride down on a great white horse, and I'd bring her love, that she was longing for. I'd bring her laughter and sunny days, and on a great white horse, I'd carry her away…_"

Almost in a trance, Lizzie's tilted her head sideways, as the words from her favorite song flowed quietly from her own lips, and though Lizzie and Erik were apart at that moment, their voices intertwined in an invisible duet.

All of the taut muscles in her body relaxed, and the insistent pounding in her head faded away like smoke from a fire. As the song from Erik's piano faded away, she fell into a lying position on the bed, her eyelids feeling heavier and heavier…

And she fell asleep.

Her dream intermingled with Erik and Patrick as it had for so many weeks, but this time and on this night, there was a difference; it began with the mask.

* * *

Refreshed and bright, Lizzie opened her door to leave, intending to meet Patrick on time, but there on her welcome mat she found a single crimson rose with a black ribbon tied around its stem. The gesture tugged at her heart strings, and she knelt down to pick it up, fingering the silk of the ribbon, and inhaling the sweet fragrance of the bloom. Feeling a stab of regret, she quickly took the flower and set it down inside her flat. And with renewed determination, she shut the door behind her, and strode purposefully away from her building.

* * *

A/N: In the polls, so far Erik is in the lead, so we'll seeeee...Please review! 


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

He never saw it coming.

Standing five feet behind the stranger, Erik's sharp blue eyes settled on the dark leather of his black jacket. Vengeance and anticipation surged through his veins like deadly poison as Erik snapped the punjab lasso around the man's neck in a whip-like motion. Using his powerful strength, he took great pleasure in cutting off the circulation in Patrick's body, and as the stranger reached uselessly to his throat to loosen the grip, Erik forcefully shoved him down to the ground. It didn't take long for the purplish tint to color the man's handsome face, and with satisfaction, Erik watched with a smirk as Patrick drew his last breath, not even caring about the vow he had once made to Nadir to never again take another man's life.

_It didn't matter_, Erik thought, trying to hold on to his last thread of sanity. He circled around the dead body like a panther. It was _his_ fault, after all. Lizzie and Erik were happy before he came back, and if Patrick hadn't shown up with his whole, perfect face, then none of them would be in this mess.

"You already had your chance with her!" Erik shouted to the limp body. "You left!" he growled. "Lizzie's mine now!"

Erik glanced around, reaffirming that he was all alone. Standing in the alleyway behind the coffeehouse shouting at a dead person, he imagined how foolish he must have appeared. A smile curved at his lips as he rounded the man's torso, giving Patrick one last kick in the gut for good measure, observing the bluish tinge of his complete tanned face, his tongue hanging morosely from the side of his mouth.

"Not so handsome anymore."

The sound of footsteps brought Erik out of his daydream. Lizzie was fast approaching the coffeehouse, her steps determined, her face lovely and serious. Ducking around the corner, Erik made sure to hide his disguised self from view, cursing the man inside the building. Patrick had arrived ten minutes prior, and with all of his might, Erik had to fight the dreadful temptation to make his daydream a reality.

He watched with a sigh as Lizzie paused before the entrance, brushing her bangs from her forehead, straightening her collar, and smoothing down the fabric of her pants. She took a breath, and entered, her eyes searching. Quickly she found the man, who, to Erik's disgust may have been what he would have looked like had he not worn a mask. A shy smile graced her lips as she greeted Patrick with an embrace, and at that moment Erik felt his heart split in two. He couldn't watch anymore, and he didn't dare.

It was no contest. The choice was painfully obvious to Erik. And as he left, he shook the disturbing image of Patrick and Lizzie sitting and laughing together, and set his mind to focusing on his future.

* * *

Her hand was poised to knock at Erik's door, but she hesitated. She felt terrible about the way she had treated him. Determinedly, her knuckles met the wood of his door, but there was no answer. It was already noon, and since he rarely left his flat during the daytime, she was puzzled that he was not answering. Tentatively, she turned the doorknob, finding it unlocked and entered. 

Her breath caught as she walked in, her brows furrowing at the sight before her. Erik's back was facing her, and his walls were bare, and to her shock, he was packing some of his belongings into one of several large boxes on the dining room table.

"Erik? What is this?" she asked fearfully, moving towards him.

He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to maintain control. He thought that he would be fine, that he could leave this place without ever seeing her again, or hearing her sweet voice. He hoped that he could remain unemotional, and depart from this flat with some shred of dignity.

He offered no reply.

Concerned, she approached him, feeling that he had known somehow or found out about her secret. "Erik, we need to talk…"

His response came out in a growl. "You lied."

Blinking back tears, she slowly moved beside him, wincing as he turned his face away in an abrupt motion. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Erik." She paused for a moment to find the right words. "I should have told you…I was wrong for not telling you that I had feelings for the man- the stranger I hired to be Frankie's father."

Erik sucked in his breath, dread filling every bone in his body. He turned completely away from her. The last thing he wanted was to see the pity in her beautiful eyes, or allow her to see the devastating effect she had on him.

"I thought I'd never see him again, Erik, but when he came back, I was so confused, and I didn't know what to think anymore, about you or about him." Standing directly behind him, she could see the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed, and instinctively her hands rose to his back, but lingered in mid air, as though they had no right to touch him. "So I went to see him this morning," she continued, "because I had to talk to him, and find out if what I thought I felt for him was real…"

Folding his arms across his chest, he forced himself to listen to her painful words.

"Years ago, when I left Davey, I swore off men the way you swore off women. I told myself I didn't need a man, and wouldn't allow myself to get involved with one again… but when I met him, the stranger, that changed. He opened my heart."

Erik's words cut in thick and hard. "I understand, Lizzie. I wish you and Frankie the best. Now if you will kindly leave, I have much packing to do."

Lizzie shook her head. "Don't you understand what I'm trying to tell you?" she asked, her eyes drilling into his back, begging silently for him to face her, but instead his body stayed frozen in place. "When I saw him this morning, I realized something… I'm not in love with him, Erik." She noticed his body stiffen in surprise. Butterflies waged war in her stomach as she took a breath, and willed the words to leave her mouth. "I'm in love with you."

Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest as she waited for what seemed an eternity for him to respond. Finally, when she couldn't take the silence anymore, she spoke again. "Erik? I haven't said those words in a very long time. I thought I'd never say them to another man ever again. Will you please say something?"

He turned to her then, tears welling in his soulful blue eyes. Overcome by emotion, he enfolded her into his embrace, his body shuddering as he held her tightly, letting her essence fill the emptiness in his soul. His fingers stroked her hair. He inhaled its pleasing lavender scent, and his nose treasured the heady fragrance. He felt for the first time that he could really breathe, and fought to steady his shaky voice. "I've never loved anyone more, Lizzie, than I love you," he whispered huskily in her ear. Pulling away from her, he studied the warmth in her eyes, as if to reassure himself that what she had said was true. His hands strayed to the softness of her cheeks, his thumb caressing her tender jaw line. "And Frankie. You two are the most important people in my life."

Her lips met his eagerly, passionately, reveling in the sensual softness of his mouth, her body melting happily into his embrace. They were like two missing pieces of a puzzle, now together they were whole and complete. Happiness and relief filled her heart, but she pulled away for a moment.

A single tear ran down Lizzie's cheek as her gaze met the love in his deep blue depths. "So, you're staying?" she confirmed.

He turned back to his boxes, feeling slightly embarrassed by his hasty actions. "I'm staying."

A smile of relief graced her lips, but a frown soon took over as she noticed for the first time that there were small rosy patches up above his forehead, and below his cheek where the mask was, and the rash was spreading onto his neck. "What happened?"

His eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment, and instinctively he hid his face with his hand. "I had an…allergic reaction."

Her motherly instinct took over; her fingers reached his chin, pushing his hand from her view, examining both sides of his face. "You only have it on the one side. Did you eat something or…?"

"I…" he began, but stopped for a moment. "Promise you won't laugh?"

"I promise."

"I applied makeup to cover the mask," he admitted ashamedly, without adding that it had been part of his disguise.

Lizzie's mouth dropped open as she considered the full weight of his words.

"I have experimented with different kinds of face makeup," he continued, "but it always results in a rash."

Pulling her to him, she held him tightly and set a long kiss on his masked cheek. "You don't need to do that, Erik. We love you the way you are."

With a sigh, he turned his gaze to the floor, then, taking her hand in his, he led her to the sofa. "That truly means the world to me, Lizzie," he told her as they sat, setting a kiss on the soft skin of her knuckles. "Having Frankie's and your approval is more than I could ever ask for, but, I can't help feeling like you might be happier with that other man."

Her eyes turned to him in horror. "Why?!"

"I cannot go anywhere without being stared at. And Frankie's friends, what will they think?"

Gently she set her hand on the masked side of his face, caressing it with her fingers. "It doesn't matter what they think. People here have already come to accept you."

"It is not about me, Lizzie. A long time ago I've come to terms with my appearance. But, I've thought about this a lot. What concerns me is how it will affect you and Frankie."

Lizzie opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Puzzled, Erik's eyebrow shot up and he made his way to the door and opened it.

"Hello, Erik. I'm back!" Nadir said with a smile.

"So soon!" Erik replied, with a forced smile.

"Is that Nadir?" Lizzie asked, rushing to the door excitedly. "You're back!" she said, throwing her arms around the olive-skinned man.

"And it's _only_ been a week," Erik added.

"Yes," Nadir agreed, suitcases in hand, looking from Lizzie to Erik, "one _long_ week."

"This is perfect," said Lizzie. "My mother has been moping about the flat, smoking like a chimney."

"I missed her very much," Nadir confessed. "I cut my trip short."

Still with a forced smile, Erik took a suitcase from Nadir and led him inside. "How nice," he said through clenched teeth.

"I can't wait to see her."

Lizzie felt giddy. Being around her mother lately had become downright depressing, and she had to admit she was fond of Nadir's fatherly presence.

Setting the suitcase down, Nadir was quick to notice the bare surroundings and boxes that cluttered the floor. One dark eyebrow shot up. "Are you leaving?"

"No," Erik said happily, draping his arm around Lizzie.

"I've only been gone for one week. What is going on?"

"Long story," Lizzie replied guiltily.

Nadir's blackish brown eyes met Erik's face, and a frown fell upon his lips. "Playing with makeup again?"

* * *

Lizzie tossed and turned in her bed that night. It was well past midnight and sleep eluded her. 

He said that he loved her, and she loved him. Everyone was happy and all was right with her world.

_What's wrong with me_, she wondered.

She didn't know what was worse. Once Nadir had joined Nell upstairs, Lizzie and Erik had indulged in a very intimate embrace on the couch, their lips joined passionately, but once again the shy virgin inside of her took over, calling a halt to any further action. She apologized profusely to him, and he was understanding, again, reassuring her that he loved her, and that he would make love to her only when she was ready. Embarrassed, she made an excuse to leave, frustrated with herself as she made her way upstairs.

Just as she was about to open her bedroom door, her mother emerged from their bath as steam drifted outward into the hallway, wearing a towel on her head, a robe and a grin, and to Lizzie's horror, another figure emerged behind her from the fog of steam. Her mouth fell agape as her eyes disbelievingly took in the sight of Nadir draping himself with a towel that was barely large enough to conceal his generous midsection to the middle of his thighs, curly black and gray chest hairs peeked at her, and an unmistakable smile that matched her mother's. Her eyes closed shut as Nadir swept past her into Nell's room, and exasperated, Lizzie called her mother to talk to her.

"Mother!" she hissed, keeping her voice as low as possible.

The woman had no shame. "Yes?" she asked with an obvious grin.

"You barely know him!"

"How much time do ya think I've got?"

Lizzie shook her head, wondering who this woman before her really was. "Erik told me that he loved me, and _we_ haven't…"

Nell rolled her eyes at her daughter. "Well, maybe you should," she said casually, pushing past Lizzie to her room.

Speechless, she stood in the hallway as her mother firmly closed the door to her room.

Her mother and Nadir had not gone through all the flirtations, emotional trauma, or spent nearly as much time together as she and Erik had, yet, _they_ were happily frolicking around in Nell's bed.

It didn't take her long to realize; the problem wasn't with Nell and Nadir, or even Erik. The problem was with Lizzie. She spent the whole rest of the day trying to figure it out. Even now, as she lay in bed, the blue of his eyes haunted her mind, tempting her innermost desires with his gaze. Erik exuded that powerful sexuality, that lusty animal magnetism. In her dreams and fantasies, he was irresistible. The physical attraction was there, and indeed when he wasn't right there in front of her, in real life, she wanted him desperately. Lizzie's mind conjured images of her fingers threading through his silky black chest hairs, admiring his smooth, muscular form, her other hand running up and down his bare back, and even lower…Her hands had a mind of their own, caressing every inch, and pulling him closer to her, her chest heaving excitedly, her body throbbing with desire, begging him and wanting him…

Closing her eyes again, she shook herself from her fantasy, unable again to make any sense of it. She loved Erik with all of her heart, and he loved her, and as he said before, when she was ready it would happen. She couldn't help but be amazed at how gentle and patient the man was. And how lucky she was to have him…

A yawn overtook her, and finally she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to Mominator for the Nell/Nadir shower idea! And it appears as though Erik is our winner, thanks to those who voted! We're heading into the final chapters so I'll probably post a bit more often, so please check back often for updates! Thanks to all who have left feedback. I love you guys and truly appreciate your comments and reviews...thanks for reading, and as always, don't forget to leave a review! 


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Lizzie felt as light as air. Her feet barely touched the cold stone surface as her eyes roamed the roomy cavern. The dark water that skirted around the edges was like a wide, glassy pool, and swirls of mist floated upward from the lake, spreading inward and embracing her bare legs like a steamy fog. In awe, her gaze met the breathtaking surroundings; she had never seen such a place. Dozens of lighted candles illuminated the lair, twinkling throughout like a clear, starry sky. Various walls were covered with large, red velvet draperies, and the immeasurable space was filled with exotic furnishings, while statues and decorative trinkets danced in her vision. A grand piano sat majestically in open view, large and small candelabras bordered the glossy instrument.

Her masked man was there. He stood tall and devastatingly handsome, dressed in a striking black suit. His cerulean eyes called to her. His black gloved hand took hers as he addressed her solely in song, his ethereal voice reaching into her soul and wrapping itself around her heart. Gently, he led her through his enchanting retreat.

Mesmerized, her body followed him, as though in a trance; her mind was clear, her heart felt blissfully free, and her spirit rejoiced with his every note. His hand tenderly dropped to her waist, and his eyes met hers in a powerful command. As he let his hand travel up the sheer, lacy fabric of her robe to her silky brown tresses, every nerve ending in her body tingled. She exhaled a pleasured sigh at his touch, and her chest rose and fell in breathless anticipation. Her eyes closed, savoring the contact, and as his gloved hand grazed her cheek, she felt her skin flush with heated excitement. His song echoed in a masterful crescendo, and of its own accord, her left arm wrapped around his neck, while her other hand sought the smooth, clean shaven skin of his left cheek. Lost within the intoxication of his gaze, all of her senses were sharpened. Her nose inhaled the fragrance of the smoke from the candles, her ears treasured the ecstasy of his music, and her body yearned for his touch. Erik finally leaned down and claimed her rosy lips, and when his tongue met hers with a fiery longing, it was the closest to heaven that she'd ever been.

As Erik lifted her, he continued to sing to her softly, adoringly, and carried her as though she were a sack of feathers, bringing her to an elegant swan-shaped bed. Effortlessly he laid her down onto the silky red sheets, and as he lowered himself on top of her, and she felt the welcome caress of his tongue on her neck, his lips trailing downward, her body simmered with desire. She wanted him with her mind, and her body, and soul, and as her legs desperately embraced his, she thought that if he didn't take her soon that she might just crumble. The promise was in his eyes, and his lips were curved into a teasing smile. Her hands moved to undress him, his kisses consuming her, as he shed article after article of clothing, and as he sought to satisfy her with his body, she woke up…

* * *

Erik sat at his dining room table, coloring in his sketch, as a knock at the door distracted him. He looked up, wondering if it was Lizzie, when she burst in, making a beeline for him. 

"I want you to hypnotize me."

Erik looked at her as though she'd grown two heads. "Well, good morning to you too."

She stood next to the table facing him, her hair mussed, robe tied haphazardly over her flannel pajamas, out of breath. As much as she wanted him at that moment, she just couldn't find the nerve to force herself on him.

As he took her hands in his, her skin began to flush with embarrassment at her request. It was hard enough for her to get the words out, and now she was going to have to repeat it. "Did you hear what I said, Erik? I want you to hypnotize me…tonight."

He stood up and met her gaze, and set a kiss on her cheek. "Yes, I heard what you said, and no."

Her eyebrows furrowed in sheer disappointment. "No?"

"No," he replied simply.

Her mouth fell open as he swept past her into the kitchen. Following behind him, she decided to take a different approach.

Her hands joined around his neck, fingering the black waves of his hair. She stood up on her tip toes, and engaged him in a passionate kiss. Finally she pulled away, and with pleading eyes she met his gaze. "Please?"

His hands had fallen around her waist, and one eyebrow shot up. "No."

Her lips fell into a pout. "Well, why not?"

"Lizzie," he asked, truly concerned. "What is this about?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she looked up at him shyly. "I just thought that if you hypnotize me, I could …overcome my bloody shyness."

After a moment of considerable thought, Erik shook his head as the woman he loved exhaled a breath in protest.

"Oh, come on, please?" she begged.

Erik moved to the cupboard and poured Lizzie a cup of coffee, which judging by the bags under her eyes she definitely needed. "Do you remember what I told you about my mother and father?"

"This is _completely_ different," Lizzie responded quickly. "I _want_ you to hypnotize me."

He stirred some cream into her cup and handed it to her. "Lizzie, I love you, and I would do anything for you, but this…" he paused to reach his own cup. "I don't want to have to use hypnosis ever again."

Her resolve quickly began to falter, but she continued, "But I'll be good, and promise not to leave screaming," she said, her lips curved teasingly.

"No."

"It's just not fair," she complained. "You sang to those other women, and hypnotized them, and didn't make _them _beg!"

With a sigh, he took the coffee cup from her and set it down, and took her into a strong bear hug. "I didn't love those women," he paused to look into her hurt chocolate eyes. "I love you, and I don't think we need to rush something that will come naturally."

Lizzie breathed a defeated sigh, looking up into his adorable gaze, and despite her feminine urges, wondered how this man, unlike many others, could be so understanding of such an important step.

Her gaze fell disappointedly to the floor. "Fine."

One long finger lifted her chin to meet his eyes. "Can you stay and have breakfast with me?"

"No, I have to work this morning." She pulled from him, and headed towards the door, kissing him once more.

He held her tightly in his arms, rocking her back and forth in a soothing motion. "Come see me before you leave and I'll walk you to the chip shop," he told her, kissing her on the cheek.

With a nod she looked up at him, and pressed her lips to his, cherishing the feel of those sensual lips on her own, not wanting to leave the comfort of his embrace, and certainly not wanting to leave for work.

"I love you, Erik."

Those words tugged at his soul, and as he ran fingers through her hair, he fought the urge to hypnotize her right then and there. He met her eyes, and braced the soft skin of her cheeks gently with his hands. "I love you too."

As he shut the door, he shook his head.

For as long as he lived, he was sure he would never understand women.

* * *

"Do you really have to leave, Patrick?" she asked, her head on his chest, and her arms gripping his waist tightly. 

Smiling, Patrick looked down at the young blond, and struggled to pull her locked hands from his back. "Aye, Cindy, I have to go."

Her blue eyes shined as she looked up at him. "You could retire from the sea, Patrick," she suggested unashamedly, "and stay with me," she said, batting her eyelashes flirtatiously.

"I don't think your boyfriend would be too happy about that," Patrick reasoned, still trying to separate her hands from his waist.

"The man's made up his mind, so let him go for bloody's sake," Marie told Cindy impatiently, pulling apart the blond's grasp. "And _you_ have a box in the back to unload."

Cindy parted from him finally, her lips forming a pout. "Bye, Patrick," she said, backing away, never leaving his gaze. She blew him a kiss, and then made her way into the back room.

Marie shook her head at her employee. "Sorry about that, Pat, Cindy's always had a crush on you."

He had known this to be true for many years and a small chuckle escaped his lips, giving Marie a nod of acknowledgement.

"I'm also sorry," she began regretfully, her ocean blue eyes filled with sympathy, "that things didn't turn out how you hoped," Marie said, wrapping her arms around her brother.

His arms braced his sister tightly. He didn't know when he was going to see her again. "Me too." Patrick looked at his watch and back to Marie. "My boat leaves in an hour."

He lifted his duffel bag and gave one last hug to his sister. The tinkling sound of the bell on the door signaled his departure from the chip shop, and as he stepped out, he could not resist the urge to look one more time in the direction of Lizzie and Frankie's building.

He was only slightly surprised, with a pang of regret, to see Lizzie there in the arms of the masked musician that Marie had told him about. Her back was against the wall as she smiled and talked to the man, her unforgettable eyes gazing up at him in adoration. Patrick didn't realize that he was staring at the couple, when the masked man suddenly looked over and met his eyes. As Marie had told him, there was a resemblance between the two men, and Patrick couldn't help feeling that if he had sent those letters, maybe things would be different…

With reluctant acceptance, Patrick smiled to the masked man, and swept his index finger upward from his brow in a one-fingered salute. In response, the masked man gave a nod, and a slight smile curved at his lips. Patrick's heart felt a little lighter as he secured his duffel bag over his shoulder and strode away to the harbor.

* * *

Lost in contemplative thought, Erik sat at his piano, his eyes blindly meeting the notes before him. He had no idea for how long. Lizzie had made her choice, and by some miracle Erik had found himself the winner in this scenario. The reality hit him like a powerful explosion. Unbelievably, the woman he loved had allowed the chance of a normal life to walk away from her. To Erik's good fortune, he had somehow managed to gain the love of an incredible woman and her son. Indeed, he could not believe how lucky he was. Still he couldn't help wondering. Would he always be so fortunate? Would her unwavering love stand true if yet another man was there to challenge? He pushed away the unpleasant thought that sent anticipatory waves of panic through his body. 

And there was only one thing she asked of him…She wanted to be hypnotized. It was a simple thing, really, and had it been another woman there would be no hesitation…but this was Lizzie. As much as he desired every inch of her luscious body, he had no wish to claim her will. He wanted her whole and free, and completely lucid.

Erik had never loved anyone more, and now he felt that by not complying with her wishes, that he stood to lose her. How could he live with himself if he lost her for the sole reason of her inability to give herself to him in love? Searching his mind, he shook his head. There had to be a compromise where he didn't have to sacrifice the vow he had made to her that he held so sacred. The solution was there, he felt it, lingering in the air, teasingly, like a fly that never stayed in one place for long, but just long enough to annoy. That's when it hit him like a ton of bricks.

_Of course_. There was only one answer…It would take time and some careful planning.

Silently, he allowed the ideas to seize his brain, and then a smile tugged at his lips.

* * *

A/N: Sorry to those who voted for Patrick, please visit my "Dear Frankie" stories. I treated him a lot better in those fics. Thanks to all for reading, and a very special thanks to those who leave feedback...Keep it up :) 


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

"Never going to happen, old friend."

Nadir raised one dark eyebrow. "Well, I appreciate your well wishes," he told Erik sarcastically.

Erik shook his head as he looked at the older man, who seemed genuinely surprised by his reaction. "You think you know her, Nadir, but, I'm sure that I know her better, and it is highly unlikely."

"Well, Erik, I think that I know her quite well…"

With a laugh, Erik shook his head again and turned back to the piano, moving his fingers to the keys of the piano. "Never going to happen."

His feet were glued to the floor, and he found himself completely taken aback. Nadir's arms folded into his chest defensively. "Is that so?"

Nodding, Erik's fingers absently rubbed at a spot on one of the ivory keys.

"Well, I think you're wrong."

Frankie made wide gestures to grab the men's attention, and as both Erik and Nadir deciphered his signed message they couldn't help but laugh.

"A bet?" Erik smiled. "Why, Frankie, I think that's a brilliant idea! What do you think?"

A grin encompassed the nine year old's face as he looked back and forth between the two men.

"A fine idea, indeed, young man," Nadir signed. "Now then, what shall be the stakes?"

Erik clapped his hands together. "I've got it! If I win, you have to give up cigars for a month."

A frown fell across Nadir's lips, and he narrowed his eyes at his masked friend. "Well, I suppose if you give me a moment, I can think of something equally deplorable for you…"

Before he could finish his sentence, Frankie came between the two men and signed his idea.

Nadir laughed out loud at the boy's idea, agreeing wholeheartedly while Erik hung his head.

"What's wrong, Erik? Are you afraid?" Nadir teased.

His deep blue eyes turned to the young conspirator and then to his friend. He soon decided that not having to smell the annoying scent from the cigars was well worth the risk. In Erik's mind, he knew the woman better, so it was not as though he was going into this bet blindly. A smile tugged at his lips and he stood up to face Nadir.

"I accept your wager on one condition," he began, looking into Nadir's eyes with the utmost seriousness. "Lizzie is not to know what this bet is about." Erik's gaze turned to Frankie, securing the boy's confidence.

"Agreed." Nadir gripped Erik's hand tightly in agreement. It was a delicious bet, and Nadir couldn't wait for his friend to lose.

* * *

Laughing, Nell marveled at the card in Frankie's hand. The queen of clubs was held up between his thumb and forefinger and the boy wore a proud smile. "That is amazing, Frankie. That's my card!" she said, and looked from her grandson to Nadir, who was sitting beside her on the couch. "How did you do that?" 

Frankie shrugged his shoulders, a mischievous expression on his face.

"A magician never reveals his secrets, eh Frankie?" Nadir laughed, signing and turning to Nell.

With a nod, Frankie took the card from his nana and placed it back into the pile with the others.

"You know…Frankie and Erik aren't the only ones who have talent."

A giggle escaped her lips. "You definitely have talent, love. Oh, _yes,_ you do," Nell said, turning her attention to her olive-skinned lover. "No doubt about that."

His eyes became wide, as he elbowed her embarrassedly, his head nodding towards Frankie. "Nell!"

"Oh, alright then, handsome. Show me this talent of yours."

Nadir met Frankie's gaze and gave him a quick wink. Quickly he stood, and reached for some plastic cups that Frankie was going to use next. "Allow me if you will," he began, gesturing for the boy to hand him a coin that was laying on the table, and slipped the shiny object underneath a cup, "to dazzle you with my sleight of hand."

Amusedly, Nell sat up, folding her arms in her chest, and watched Nadir's playful display. Using grand gestures, he used one dark hand to line up three blue plastic cups, and pointed to the one in the middle, lifting the cup slightly to display the coin inside, and his other hand sneakily reached into his back pocket, withdrawing another object. A startling sneeze escaped Frankie, and as Nell's eyes turned to her grandson she did not notice Nadir quickly stow it into another cup. He began slowly, rotating the cups right to left, and then left to right, Nell's eyes carefully followed the direction the middle cup was taking. His hands became quicker, twirling the middle cup to the left, and swinging it to the right, switching and switching the cups with an odd fury. He stopped suddenly, and soon Nell's expression changed from confusion to delight.

"Aha!" Nell laughed, pointing to the cup on the left. "That's the one."

"Are you sure?"

"Aye, I'm sure. It's that one right _there_," she insisted, still pointing to her choice.

"Hmmm," Nadir replied, meeting her eyes. "You may want to choose again."

"No, no, NO. It's _that_ one!"

His blackish brown eyes turned to Frankie. "What do _you_ think, Frankie?"

Without hesitation, the boy's finger pointed to the cup in the middle.

"No!" she protested loudly. "It's the one on the left."

"Then let's find out if you chose correctly," he said, lifting the blue cup on the left.

Nell let out a gleeful laugh when she found that she was right and that the coin was in fact underneath the cup she'd chosen. "See?" she ranted. "You _both_ were wrong."

"Were we?" Nadir asked, darting his gaze from Frankie to Nell.

Smugly, she sat back against the couch cushions. "Of course you were, Noddy. Why, I'm sitting here looking at it!"

"Things are not always as they appear, love."

"Have ya gone mad? The bloody coin's sitting right there!" Her voice had risen with every word, the tone more irritated.

"Why don't you check the other two cups? Perhaps the middle one?"

She shook her head firmly. "I _already_ beat you at your game. _I _was right."

Nadir began to become impatient. "Alright, then why don't you lift the middle cup anyway?"

"I'm not going to do it, because I already found the bloody coin. Game over."

"Nell…love, please," he asked, trying to hold onto what was left of his patience. "Just lift the middle cup," Nadir insisted.

Her arms folded tighter against her chest. "You lost, Noddy. Deal with it."

"Nell, please, just lift the…"

Before he could finish his sentence, Frankie impatiently cut between the two of them, and his hand swiftly removed the middle cup from their sight, and backed away quickly as his nana let out a loud gasp.

Her mouth fell agape as her eyes stared at the object that lay on the table between the two blue containers. A band of gold with a single diamond stared back at her, and as she looked to Nadir for explanation, she soon found him on one knee before her.

"I don't want to live another day without you. I want you to travel the world with me, Nell. Marry me?" Nadir asked, his eyes vulnerable as he met her gaze. Erik's doubting words poked at his brain like stubborn woodpeckers.

Blinking, she could hardly believe what she was seeing and hearing. Her eyes met the wide smile on her grandson's face, and as she turned to her handsome suitor, her lips spread into a grin. "I will." Throwing herself into his arms, she squeezed him with all of her might, and her eyes filled with tears.

Relief and happiness flooded his body. Nadir moved her face to his, gripping her in an exuberant kiss.

She pulled from him, and raised an eyebrow to Frankie. "You two planned this," she said, turning to Nadir.

With a smile, Frankie nodded proudly.

"Tonight," Nadir suggested. "Let's elope."

Her expression changed from happiness to excitement. "I love that! But, what about telling Lizzie and Erik?"

Nadir and Nell stood up, holding each other tightly. "I think that this should just be our little secret," he said, eyeing Frankie. Right on cue, the boy joined the happy couple in a cozy group hug. "I have a feeling Erik is going to be busy tonight."

* * *

"Now to the left," he directed, his sharp blue eyes watching Frankie's posture. 

Gripping the corner of the black cape between his thumb and forefinger, Frankie swung the heavy fabric to the left side.

"Good," Erik said, approaching the boy, and straightened his elbow. "This time, holding it nice and tight, I want you to move with it and swirl it around." He picked up another cape that was draped over the sofa and tied it expertly around his neck. "Let's do it together."

Affixing her earring to her ear, Lizzie emerged from her room to behold the scene before her. Her son and her masked man swirled their capes around the living room simultaneously with audible swishing sounds. Charmed, a smile graced her lips, and at that moment she sorely wished she had a camera.

"It's time," she announced.

The left side of Erik's face fell and Lizzie could imagine that this was how he looked as a little boy being sent to his room. "Please, don't make me do this."

Lizzie pulled hers and Frankie's coats from the closet and handed one to her son. "Well, don't be making any more bets with Nadir." Erik opened his mouth to protest, but Lizzie cut him off. "He won fair and square. By the way, I'll be expecting you to tell me what this is all about."

"On some other day, I will," Erik promised. "I'm just happy that Nadir and your mother have their own plans tonight." Heaving a loud sigh, Erik untied his cape and swung his long black overcoat over his shoulders. His eyebrow furrowed in displeasure as he grumbled to himself.

Her masked man appeared surprisingly shaken and she stood before him, lacing her hands into his. "You'll be among friends."

"You don't understand, Lizzie. I haven't done this in years."

"Erik," she told him, leaning up and setting a kiss on his nose. "You'll be fine."

* * *

In awe, Lizzie stood against the back wall of the chip shop. Seated in two rows of chairs, Marie, Cindy, Frankie, Ally and the rest of the band members cheered loudly as Erik continued to amaze them first with simple card tricks, then moving onto more difficult illusions. She had no idea he was such a talented magician. His face, now smiling and confident, held the aura of a natural charismatic performer, as he used a powdery substance to fill the space with a large spray of red smoke to make Cindy disappear behind his cape. As the group laughed and applauded, an idea hit Lizzie like a bolt of lightning. 

_It was brilliant_.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank you all for your feedback! I love you guys! As we get closer to the end (we're pretty close now) your questions will be answered. Please hang in there with me...I should be done revising chapter 29 and be able to post sometime Thursday. So please check back for the next update, and as always, please review! 


	29. Chapter 29

_A/N: Well, here we are one chapter away from the end! I plan to post chapter 30 on Christmas Day (Tuesday, the day my hubby leaves for work for his usual 72 hour shift), so please hang in there with me, and don't forget to check back on this very special holiday. Thanks for hanging in there with me, and as always please review because I can't wait to hear what you think of this one!_

**Chapter 29**

It had been a long day and Lizzie had found herself in the worst of moods. A rude patron had accused her of giving the wrong change, her feet were killing her, and to her dismay, the influx of customers that entered the chip shop seemed never ending. If she heard that little bell sound one more time, she would surely yank it down herself, and toss the blasted chime into the toilet. After having stayed an hour longer at Marie's request to help diminish the busy queue, she yearned to leave that place and melt into the loving embrace of her dashing masked man. As much as she desperately longed to see Erik, he had already informed her that he would be performing with the band that night. Heaving a depressed sigh, she opened the door to her building. Coming home to an empty flat was extremely unappealing. It seemed that even her son had his own plans, dining with his friend, Catriona, and probably would not be home until late. Her mother and Nadir had been behaving in an oddly secretive manner, making their own plans, and spending time away from the flat. Sadly, all Lizzie had to look forward to was a long, lonely evening, only to wake up early in the morning and do it all over again.

Erik wasn't home, she knew, but still was drawn to his front door like a moth to a flame. She missed the man desperately, despite his stubbornness. No amount of pleading had persuaded him to hypnotize her. To Lizzie, it was downright frustrating. She couldn't help wondering if their relationship would be more intimate if she'd only allowed him to hypnotize her the first time instead of insisting that they were only friends. Already she'd cursed herself about a hundred times. She hated feeling like a schoolgirl, she hated that he refused to help her get past it, and she hated that those other women had experienced the gift of his hypnotism, but above all, she hated that he stubbornly refused to comply with her wishes. The more she thought about it, the more peeved she became. Why, she would have loved to give him an earful of exactly how she felt at that moment, she thought angrily; if only he were there...

Her hand was poised to knock, when a voice took hold of her, gripping her like a heavenly hand.

"_Lizzie_," the voice whispered, stilling the breath in her throat, sending tingles up and down her body.

Her heart thumped with excitement, and all of her previous hostility seemed to vanish into thin air. Her masked man was there, and every inch of her longed to be near him. "Erik?" she called out uncertainly, looking behind her and toward the direction of the stairwell, not quite sure which direction the sound of his voice came from.

"_Lizzie_," his voice whispered again.

She could feel a light, intoxicating brush of breath on her ear as he spoke, and she swung around to locate it.

"_Follow my voice_."

Helplessly compelled by the ethereal, masculine timbre, her feet obeyed, carrying her up the stairs to her front door. It mattered not at that moment where that voice directed her, Lizzie thought, she was certain she would follow it to the ends of the earth. Her eyes were wide as she searched for him, her gaze darting forward and behind her, yearning only to give herself up to those deep blue eyes.

"Erik," she breathed, finding her own voice trapped inside her throat. "Where are you?"

"_I'm here, my love_."

A small gasp escaped her as she felt him suddenly behind her, the gentle weight of his head touching hers. His hands were feather light as they grasped her arms, rendering her breathless and intoxicated by his touch. Before she could utter one word, his hand strayed to her eyes, effectively shielding them with one elegant palm.

"_Close your eyes_."

Obediently, she complied, mesmerized by his pure, sensual tone. She imagined that if he had asked her to stand on her head, she would have done it gladly. Her hand rested softly in his as he opened the door and led her inside. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she tried to imagine what he had in store for her; giddy that he had changed his mind after all. His voice certainly had a hypnotic effect, but her mind still felt in control. Step by step, she focused on the sounds of their feet as they walked through the flat, the tempting smell of his cologne that wafted teasingly to her nose, the gentle feel of his thumb as it brushed her knuckles. Eyes still closed, they stopped, and Erik withdrew her hand from his, and the scent of him drifted further and further away.

"Erik?" she asked, puzzled, her eyes longing to open and find him.

There was no reply and her whole body tingled in anticipation. She felt him lift the strap of her purse from her shoulder, exhaling a breath of surprise at the sudden contact.

His melodious voice whispered in her ear again to stand very still and keep her eyes closed.

Her hands balled into fists down at her sides, as she fought the urge to reach for him, not knowing how much longer she could stand there idly. His fingers took hold of one of her coat sleeves, slowly, and then moved to take the other.

As he reached for her scarf, a gentle rush of music filled her ears. The soft strumming of the guitar rung out clear and sweet, and as the soothing sound of the violin joined in, she quickly recognized the tune to be the very memorable one that Erik and the band had played just for her. Though it was the second time she heard the song, it did not fail to capture her, and with her eyes closed, it seemingly caressed her once more with its mesmeric melody.

"_Open your eyes_."

She felt as though she was in a daze, and her eyes fluttered open finally, drawing a breath at the sight around her. Candles, large and small danced in her vision, showcasing her flat with dozens of twinkling lights. On every shelf and on every table, the tiny torches flickered and sparkled about the room, illuminating the area like a bright moonlit night. Barely able to speak, her eyes found Erik just feet before her dressed sharply in a suit of black. His eyes shone like deep blue orbs and his gaze fell heavily upon her.

Her feet felt as though they were planted to the floor. "Erik," she began weakly. "It's so beau-"

He approached her, his face serious, his eyes commanding, and put two fingers to her lips to silence her. His eyes wandered the length of her body, and his hand gently cupped her cheek.

"You are so beautiful, Lizzie." It came out in a ragged whisper, and his fingers had taken to following the soft contour of her jaw line, and tenderly brushed across her neck. "I have stayed awake nights wanting you, dreaming about the feel of your body…"

Shivers ran down her skin, and she moved to reach for him, but his hands steadied hers once again at her sides. Her chest heaved with excitement as she realized that his game did not allow her to touch him. She forced herself to remain very still, and watched as his hand met the air a half inch from her heart, her body shuddering as he trailed both breasts torturously slow down to her waist without ever making contact.

"I love you more than I've loved anyone, Lizzie," he continued, circling around her now, his hand trailing the back of her shoulders.

Lizzie had never experienced something so erotic. Though she remained fully dressed, her body tingled as Erik's hand seemed to draw the energy from her body, awakening every nerve, arousing her with the sensation.

"I still wonder how it is possible that you could care for a monster like me…"

Her mouth fell open to protest. "You are not-"

His fingers met the softness of her lips once again.

"I want you to say that you love me," he commanded softly, his blue eyes piercing hers.

"I love you, Erik."

Inches before her now, his hand lifted her chin to him. "Say that you want me, Lizzie."

Their lips were a breath apart as she looked up at him, desperate to receive his kiss, her heart racing. "I want you, Erik."

"Say that you need me."

"I need you," she whispered.

Suddenly, he separated from her, and puzzled by his departure, her eyes searched his curiously. Standing four feet away, he raised his arms slowly in a grand gesture, and in time with the music snapped his fingers once, releasing a wondrous drizzle of fragrant crimson rose petals. In awe her eyes watched as the petals fell around and on top of her, drifting downward and dancing in the air like bright red feathers. Her palms opened to catch some and as the last ones made their floaty descent, her eyes fell to the masked man who was now on one knee before her.

"I want you to say that you will marry me." His voice was husky as his soulful cerulean eyes looked up at her, and between his thumb and index finger he held a ring.

Her mouth fell agape once again as her eyes treasured the shiny silver band before her, adorned with a trio of round diamonds. Her breath was caught in her throat as her mind fought to register his request.

The song ended with a powerful crescendo, then faded quietly into silence, and Lizzie was sure he could hear the thumping of her heart.

Tears began to fill her eyes as she bent down to him, and took his face in hers, her thumb running along the white fleshy mask. "I will marry you."

His lips took hers desperately, his body shuddering with relief, embracing her with his heart and soul. He pulled away finally, fighting back tears, and smiled with a happiness he'd never known. Carefully he set the ring upon her finger, admiring its glittering splendor, as though it were made only for her hand.

"There is one thing I want, Erik" she told him, her hand tightly wrapped in his and her eyes were serious as she looked up into his handsome face.

He nodded, his hand falling to the silky softness of her hair. "Anything, my love."

"I want you to..." she began, and took a breath, fixing her gaze on his seductive blue eyes, "take me to my bed and... and make love to me."

A smile curved at his lips and he ran gentle fingers through her silky strands. "I will," he told her tenderly, meeting her chocolate brown gaze, her lovely eyes laced with desire.

He no sooner said that then picked her up, reveling in the blissful realization that this woman would be his forever, and together made their way through the trail of rose petals, past the twinkling candles, and into the sweet haven of her room.

* * *


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: Sniff! My longest fic to date...Writing this story was an incredible challenge, and a sincere pleasure, and I would like to give a huge thanks to my beta and friend, grannydaisytoo, who was a tremendous help with ideas, wording, research, editing, and general encouragement. No doubt she helped me make this story into more than I'd ever even hoped. Thank you so much, Kim! Thank you thank you thank you! Also, thanks to mrsphan who had given me the encouragement to post chapter one when I had doubts about it, and for her friendship and feedback. Many thanks as well to Timeflies, for reviewing every single chapter- I have looked forward to every single one and appreciate them so much! Also, a big hug to Lainersss for her wonderful feedback and support. More big thanks to Terbear, Passed Over, Who'sThat, GerrysJackie, MJMod, Montaquecat, and Mominator for your meaningful feedback that has praised, second guessed, questioned, and commented frequently, inspiring me to do better. Of course, a huge thanks to everyone who reviewed period, your comments were always well-received and appreciated as well. Thanks again, you all for hanging in there with me through my endless cliffies. I hope that you have enjoyed my story and please leave a review, and even if you didn't like the story, I hope that you review anyway. Merry Christmas and I hope that you all have a wonderful new year!**

**Chapter 30**

_Epilogue_

She smiled and clapped as the boys and girls exited the stage dressed festively in black, white, and red, wearing Santa hats atop their heads. "Let's give our choir a hand for their fine performance." Clearing her throat, she waited for the applause to die down. "Now, just in time for Christmas, thanks to Mrs. Morrison, you are all in for a treat. I'd like you all to be on your best behavior…" the stern woman's eyes turned to Ricky Munro, raising her eyebrow with a warning, and then with a smile she addressed the whole crowd. "And give a warm welcome to Glasgow's own masked magician… Monsieur...Erik," the headmaster looked to Lizzie to be sure she had the name correct, and with a smile and nod, she continued, "and here to assist him, our own Frankie Morrison." The older woman cleared her throat and set the microphone back on its base, gesturing their attention towards the stage.

Immediately, Frankie and Erik appeared in a large cloud of red smoke, emitting ooh's and ahh's from the children, who promptly erupted into loud applause.

Lizzie stood against the back wall in the cafeteria, nervously chewing her fingernails. She couldn't remember the last time she had ever felt this nervous…and she was not even onstage! Her eyes fell to her charismatic masked man, who commanded the audience with his powerful presence. His engaging voice rang through loud and clear, his movements graceful, and his elegant hands captured the youngsters' imaginations with his tricks and illusions. Her gaze fell to her son who stood beside Erik, watching him carefully for cues, following his every lead, he was every bit the lively assistant, and seeing Frankie up onstage with a confident smile filled Lizzie's heart with pride. She had been nervous, but she had no reason to be. Every student, every teacher, every faculty member were enthralled by the gifted performer.

Lost in the pure magic of the show before her, she was startled when Miss Mackenzie, Frankie's teacher, gave her elbow a gentle nudge.

The expression of delight showed plainly on the woman's face. "The Masked Magician is quite talented, isn't he?"

_If only she knew_, Lizzie thought devilishly. She cleared her throat and nodded. "Thank you for letting him perform."

"On the contrary, Mrs. Morrison, thank you. The children seem to love him." Miss Mackenzie gave Lizzie a quick wink, and returned to the front where her class was seated.

* * *

Almost all eyes were focused on the masked man and Frankie, and laughs and cheers were heard throughout, except for a rush of whispers in the second row. 

"Wow!" one boy exclaimed to the boy next to him, "That's Frankie's da," he said, pointing to Frankie onstage.

One right after the other shared the news with their neighbor until it finally reached the horrified ears of Ricky Munro. Open mouthed, he turned to Catriona beside him.

"Catriona?" he whispered repeatedly, trying to get the girl's attention.

She turned angry brown eyes at him. He seemed intent on annoying her."What?!" she hissed, trying to keep her voice low.

"Is he really Frankie's da?"

Catriona rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "No, you eejit. Frankie's real da died. This man, the Masked Magician is going to be Frankie's stepfather."

Ricky shot a confused look at his classmate.

Exhaling an impatient breath, she continued, "Frankie's mum and Erik are getting married tomorrow." A smile soon overcame the young girl's disturbed features. "Isn't Erik dreamy?"

Ricky turned his eyes back to the man onstage. He could recall months ago when this very same man had scared him off in front of Frankie's building. His eyes formed narrowed slits as he recalled what the strange, scary man had said. _If I see you around here again, I'll take care of you myself._

Yes, he remembered the man well, and now he was going to marry Frankie's mum… _Unbelievable_.

It seemed as though the illusionist could read his thoughts as his sharp blue eyes met Ricky's. It was but a split second, but the terrifying glare that the masked man shot him sent chills down Ricky's spine. Ricky's eyes widened in fright, and as the rest of the schoolchildren laughed and applauded, Ricky sunk lower into his chair.

* * *

She was a vision. 

Her cheeks were rosy, and her face glowed. A simple smile rested on her lips. Her steps were feather light as she ascended the aisle, white and red rose petals scattered on the floor beneath her feet. Her hair was pinned on one side with a spray of white heather and fell into silky tresses at her collarbone. The long sleeves of her ivory gown swept just off the milky skin of her shoulders, and the beaded, trimmed bodice fell into a delicate v at her chest. The form-fitting satin draped her curves and ended at her ankles, brushing her legs with every step, and the long train trailed elegantly behind her.

The sweet sound of violins resounded throughout the small chapel, and her fingers gripped the stem of her bouquet gently. The crimson roses were a dazzling splash of color in her hands, contrasting with the paleness of her gown.

Unlike the first time she had married, Lizzie was now perfectly calm. Her mother smiled at her, tears welling in the older woman's eyes, and her arm laced tightly through her daughter's. On her other arm was her new stepfather, Nadir, who felt honored, and wore a proud smile as he accompanied Lizzie and Nell down the aisle, his arm holding hers softly.

Behaving as tearful bridesmaids, Cindy and Marie took their places at the altar, both dressed in burgundy tea length gowns, and watched in awe as the blushing bride approached.

He felt like he had no breath in his body, as the sight of his exquisite bride had stolen it from him. His jet black hair was swept back neatly, and in his custom tailored black tuxedo, Erik was the extraordinarily handsome groom, his deep blue eyes shining at Lizzie. His heart had never felt so full, his soul so complete, as he impatiently awaited the moment when he could take her hand in his.

Reza elbowed him, casting an approving smile to Lizzie, baring gleaming white teeth beneath an olive complexion. Erik's best man was happy to be there, happy to witness this moment in his friend's life. For Erik there had been too much pain, and grief, and sadness. Finally the masked man had found love, and as he studied the chocolate brown color of Lizzie's eyes gazing at Erik with loving warmth, Reza had no doubts. He had formed a fast kinship with the ten-year-old beside him, the youngest groomsman he'd ever seen, dressed as sharply as he was in a black tuxedo that mirrored Erik's.

Frankie could not wipe the grin from his face. At that moment, he could not conceive of anything more perfect than the joining of his mother and his good friend and idol, soon to be stepfather. His mother had never been happier, and in their new home by the ocean they would be a family.

* * *

Two blissful months had passed since the first time he had made love to her. 

It had always been a thing of beauty, the way their two bodies joined together in love. Lizzie's former shyness had become but a distant memory. Her passion and hunger for Erik had equaled his own. But, on this night, this gloriously special night, their bodies and souls celebrated the union of man and wife as though they had been a world apart, finally being reunited, finding enraptured completion within each other's grasp.

Now as they lay together in their wedding bed, sated and exhausted, Erik stroked the silky brown hair of his sleeping bride. It had been an eventful day for them both with the ceremony and a small reception, but as tired as he was, sleep eluded him. Absently his hand moved to the smooth skin of her arm, caressing it lovingly as he found himself lost in his thoughts.

Erik had once been the opera ghost, haunting and frightening the Paris Opera house inhabitants. He had once been a ruthless murderer and a drug addict. Too many pathetic and unspeakable acts had marred his years. His life had been meaningless, and he had thought his penance would be to die a lonely old man.

He had come to Glasgow to start a new life, but never expected nor hoped for anything but the routine deadness in his heart. But, as he recalled the vows that had emerged so eloquently from Lizzie's mouth, it was in a mere millisecond as he lay there beside his beloved beauty when Erik had an epiphany.

Once, he had wondered when it was that his tortured soul had finally found some reprieve; at what precise moment his heart was allowed to be freed from its torturous chains and given a second chance; when was it exactly that fate and God granted him love…

It was the only moment up until then that really mattered to him…

It was when Erik met Lizzie.

A satisfied smile crossed his lips as he cuddled his wife closer, setting a soft kiss upon her cheek. His eyelids began to feel heavy, and as he held her tightly, their breathing soon fell into unison. Erik could not help but whisper to Lizzie that he loved her, and her only response was a contented sigh. And in that moment, he thought himself to be the luckiest man in the world, and with the woman he loved in his arms, he fell gently to sleep.

_The End_

* * *


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